Domestic Fury
by StarkContrastStartles
Summary: Ziva and Tony are forced to marry to keep her in America. How will they cope with married life and domesticity? Will their erotic feelings overpower the mundane act of a fake engagement? Sex. Pure Tiva.
1. Releasing Doves

Tony blushed as he dropped the pile of magazines on the counter, his eyes refusing to meet the newsagent's polite gaze. He knew that he was being ridiculous and childish because the newsagent must get hundreds of men buying these every week. It was nothing to be ashamed about. He was supposedly in love.

He handed over the money, rejected the pitiful change, gathered up the magazines and hastened out of the shop. He stumbled on the kerb and a shower of magazines cascaded to the floor. Cursing, he dropped to his knees and began to hurriedly collect them all up.

A helpful lady saw his plight and joined him on the pavement, picking up a magazine and examining the cover before handing it to him, smiling sweetly. 'Getting married?' she simpered, picking up another wedding magazine.

'Something like that,' Tony muttered, thanking her and straightening up.

'Big wedding?' the lady persisted, flattening her coifed hair vainly.

'Yeah,' he replied darkly. 'Big, white, fluffy wedding.'

'I released doves at my wedding,' the lady reminisced dreamily. 'It was beautiful.' She batted her false eyelashes and pouted her Barbie-pink lips.

'I'm sure it was,' Tony agreed. 'Look...' he began to apologise, desperate to escape the forthcoming conversation.

'Are you getting involved in the preparations?' she continued her interrogation. 'Buying wedding magazines, planning it, it all is so stressful. Your wife is very lucky to have such a caring, helpful husband.' She giggled girlishly at her mistake. 'Oops,' she lisped. 'I mean such a caring, helpful _fiancé_. My husband never helped out, he was always working. Whenever I tried to include him, he brushed me off. It was horrible.' Her eyes widened at the memory and Tony edged away as he saw the beginnings of tears forming and glistening behind the violet contact lenses. 'It's wonderful to find a man who is interested in china patterns and...'

Tony nodded, glancing impatiently over his shoulder at his waiting car. 'Look, I'm sorry, I would love to hear about your wedding and your husband, but I've got to go,' he excused himself, leaving the lady happily remembering her wedding day and tearily recalling the preparations.

Tony slipped into the driving seat, throwing the magazines into the passenger seat. He glanced at them, shuddering at the sight of the puffy, white dress filling the cover of the topmost magazine, and sank gratefully into his sleek, leather seat.

'Never get married, DiNozzo,' he muttered, quoting his esteemed boss. He shook his head resignedly and switched on the engine, shooting gracefully out of the parking space and joining the congested traffic inching its way towards home. He turned on the radio and swayed to the music, trying to forget his reservations. Every so often, his self control would waver and he would glance out the window into the adjacent car, watching the balding businessman sitting placidly in his Volvo dreading the drudgery awaiting him at home.

Tony parked outside his apartment and, hiding the magazines under his coat, he hurried up the stairs to his front door. Glancing nervously from side to side, he released his vice-like grip on the embarrassing magazines and placed them carefully on the floor, strategically behind his foot. He fumbled around in his pockets for his keys before dropping them on the floor as he rushed to get into the privacy of his home. He crawled around on the dusty floor, scrabbling the pick up his keys before they fell through the balustrade to the ground floor.

'Getting married, Mr DiNozzo?' a voice squawked behind him. He rescued his keys and spun round, faced with a large behind filling up his view as his cumbersome neighbour bent over to study the offending magazines. 'About time,' she remarked callously. 'You aren't getting any younger, you know.'

He snorted silently, looking once more at the aging, sagging figure in front of him, and was able to reply politely. 'Yes, I know, Miss Bartley.' He struggled to stop himself stressing the _Miss_. 'I'm looking forward to it.' This was the first time he had voiced his enthusiasm about his impending nuptials but, instead of affirming his excitement, it only served to deepen his qualms.

'Who's the...' She hesitated, resisting from saying _lucky_. '...lady, then?'

He swallowed his biting remark and smiled patronisingly. 'You don't know her,' he replied, reluctant to share the identity of his future wife. 'But she's lovely,' he added.

His condescending neighbour wrinkled up her nose dubiously at the last part, disbelieving of his charms with women.

'Have you got any plans to get married?' he asked, his patience with her taciturn insults wearing thin.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and scowled, her flabby face writhing up to achieve a most ugly effect. She smiled, a fake flatulent grimace, and thrust the magazine at his chest before waddling passed him down the hall.

He chuckled to himself and opened his front door, kicking the magazines into his apartment where he could hide them from the rest of the world.

He sat down on his sofa, a football match playing on his widescreen TV and a bottle of cold beer in his right hand, his sweaty bare feet resting on the coffee table and his coat dropped carelessly on the floor, settling down to a single man's evening but with one exception: the bridal magazine filling his left hand and resting on his knee.

The phone rang and he happily threw the magazine off his lap to answer it. 'DiNozzo,' he greeted cheerily.

'Tony,' Ziva snapped. 'Gibbs needs you here now.'

Tony groaned inwardly. 'What is it about?'

'I don't know,' Ziva replied curtly.

'My marriage?' he asked.

'Our marriage,' Ziva corrected.

'Our fake marriage,' Tony added. 'So,' he prompted. 'Is it about our arranged marriage?' He snorted mirthlessly. 'Arranged by Vance,' he spat.

Ziva rolled her eyes at his childish petulance. 'I don't know,' she repeated impatiently. 'Just come in.'

Tony grinned to himself. 'Are you going to be like this when we are married?' he inquired. 'Because you can't carry the DiNozzo name and be grumpy.'

'Tony,' Ziva warned.

'I'm coming,' he assured her hastily. 'Bye wife.'

'Goodbye, Tony,' she sighed, hanging up.


	2. Bull in a Diamond Shop

Ziva sat in her car, very still. None of her muscles were moving and her face remained passive. To an innocent passerby it would look like she had been chiselled out of limestone into a static statue. To Ducky it would look like she had died and was now in full rigour. To Tony, who knew her so well, it would look as if she was considering something deeply. It would be Tony who would be right.

Finally, Ziva stirred. She turned her head to look at the shop window she should be standing on the other side of. Shivering and still not completely certain whether she wanted to do this, she climbed out of her car and marched into the shop.

She blinked and took in the view, her anxiety fading instantly and her Israeli roots kicking into action. She widened her eyes and surveyed the displays, her gaze narrowing on one specific diamond. She strode over to it and peered through the glass at it.

'A very nice choice,' a voice commented from behind the counter.

Ziva glanced up. 'Yes, it is,' she agreed. She proceeded to give the shop assistant a lengthy lecture about the cut of the diamond and how it compared to diamonds in general. When she finally concluded her explanation, she returned her attention to the diamond in question.

'Uh, thank you, Miss,' the shop assistant stuttered before reverting to her ingrained mantra. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

Ziva did not look up this time. 'How much?' she inquired directly.

'Uh, um, well,' the shop assistant faltered. 'Do you, uh, not want to, um, see it closer first?'

'No, I have seen enough,' Ziva replied coolly. 'How much is it?' she repeated impatiently.

'$2100,' the shop assistant answered nervously. 'Are you sure...?'

'No,' Ziva decided. 'It is not worth that much.' She narrowed her eyes, preparing to argue her case for the ring.

The shop assistant shook her head and took a step backwards away from Ziva. A gaunt, older man in a close fitting suit came to her rescue.

'What seems to be the problem, ma'am?' he queried smoothly.

Ziva twisted her mouth in distaste at the address. 'This ring is overpriced,' she stated firmly.

'I can assure you that every piece in this store has been valued and is worth what is being asked,' she replied suavely, without blinking an eye at the forceful tone Ziva had adopted.

'And I can assure you that you are mistaken,' she countered.

'Ma'am, if you do not want the ring...' he began, turning away.

'I know diamonds,' Ziva informed his coldly. 'And I know prices.' She took a step closer to the display case. 'And,' she slammed her fist down on the glass, 'this diamond and that price does not match.'

The man wrinkled his nose in distaste at her outburst but, to pacify the other customers staring, he bent down and pretended to consider her accusation.

'I am afraid that I would have to disagree,' he concluded, straightening up. 'If you do not, then choose a different one. An _expert _has examined every diamond in here and it has all been...'

'Priced accordingly, yeah,' Ziva interrupted. 'I heard you the first time. I am not the one with hearing difficulties.' She raised a hand to his ear and prodded a hearing aid discreetly concealed inside.

The man flushed. 'Look, ma'am, I shall have to ask you to leave the store,' he ordered as politely as he could muster in his barely contained rage.

Ziva shrugged and turned on her heel, loudly addressing the other customers. 'These people are pompous bastards who want to steal your money,' she announced. 'Don't give them the pleasure.' She paused to peer down at another diamond which caught her practised eye. 'And, never argue with an Israeli about diamonds.' She cocked her head approvingly. 'Beautiful cut,' she remarked. 'A bit sloppily set, though.'

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted two burly security guards lumbering towards her. The door was right in front of her and she could be out of it in less than two seconds if she chose. But, she was irritable and itching for a fight, so she remained. Besides, she consoled herself, they had insulted her. They deserved to see a spectacle.

The guards reached her and grabbed her arms. 'Miss, you are going to have to leave now,' one demanded oafishly.

Ziva rolled her eyes and jerked her arms out of his grip. 'Get off me,' she snapped.

'Miss,' the other tried. 'Please leave now.' He reached out for her arms again but, instead, found himself flat on his back with Ziva already ready to take on the next security guard. He lunged at her but she neatly dodged out of his way and tripped him over, feeling the familiar exhilaration she got in a fight or confrontation.

A few people in the crowd began to clap, while others edged away from the crazy woman beating up the guards in the middle of a jewellery shop. Ziva turned to them.

'Overpriced trash,' she spat before waving cheerfully at the crowd. 'Bye,' she chirped, slipping out of the shop.

Once in her car, she sank her head into her hands and banged it repeatedly on the dashboard, ignoring the loud honks as she hit the horn. 'Idiot,' she muttered. 'Ziva, you idiot.'

She drove through the crowded streets, winding through the clogged traffic. As she predicted, her phone rang less than fifteen minutes after the incident in the shop. She slid into a parking space and answered.

'Yes Gibbs?' she asked immediately.

'Ziva, what the hell happened?' he barked.

'I don't know,' she replied evenly. 'They tried to rip me off.'

'Ziva,' he growled. 'They were going to lend us a ring for almost nothing. You weren't going to have to pay that anyway. The manager agreed to give us a refund once you had bought it.' He groaned at her lack of control. 'All we needed was a camera to catch you buying a ring. You knew this, why would you...?' Words failed him at the incomprehensible stupidity of his most controlled agent. 'Ziva, what were you thinking?'

Ziva gulped, ashamed. 'Gibbs,' she began, collecting herself. 'They were ripping off all the other innocent customers there, I...'

'That's not your problem, Ziva,' he argued. 'You knew what you were meant to do.' He hesitated before continuing and she heard him sigh. 'Look, Ziva, if you can't do this, just say so.'

Ziva closed her eyes and slumped back in her seat. 'No, Gibbs,' she answered. 'I have to do this.'

'So do it,' he barked. There was a pause. 'Call DiNozzo and tell him to come in. I want to see both of you here in half an hour,' he ordered curtly, hanging up.

'I have to do this,' she repeated to herself, the words echoing in the hollow shell of her cheery, red Mini Cooper. 'I have to do this.'

She dialled Tony's number and waited for him to pick up.

'DiNozzo,' he greeted cheerily.

'Tony,' she snapped, her bad mood still not evaporated. 'Gibbs needs you here now.'

Tony groaned inwardly. 'What is it about?'

'I don't know,' Ziva replied curtly.

'My marriage?' he asked.

'Our marriage,' Ziva corrected, wincing at the idea.

'Our fake marriage,' Tony added. 'So,' he prompted. 'Is it about our arranged marriage?' He snorted mirthlessly. 'Arranged by Vance,' he spat.

Ziva rolled her eyes at his childish petulance. 'I don't know,' she repeated impatiently, lying through her teeth. 'Just come in.'

Tony grinned to himself. 'Are you going to be like this when we are married?' he inquired. 'Because you can't carry the DiNozzo name and be grumpy.'

'Tony,' Ziva warned, annoyed by his persistence.

'I'm coming,' he assured her hastily. 'Bye wife.'

'Goodbye, Tony,' she sighed, hanging up.


	3. Facing the Enemy

Ziva and Tony arrived at the elevator simultaneously and they both stepped in, the air already fused with silence and awkwardness.

'So, uh, you came,' Tony remarked.

'Yes, Tony, I came,' Ziva snapped back irritably.

'Do you have any idea what it is about?' he continued his efforts to lighten the atmosphere.

'No.'

Tony sighed. 'Look, Ziva, this isn't my fault,' he protested.

'You agreed,' she shot back.

'So?' he defended.

'So, Vance had already announced it before he asked me. I had no choice.'

Tony frowned. 'Yes, you did. You could have said no still. You aren't my shadow, you don't have to copy everything I do.'

'I don't copy you,' she spat.

Tony leaned back against the metal wall trapping him with an angry Ziva. 'If you don't want to do this, just say,' he demanded, slightly hurt by her reluctance to marry him.

'I don't want to do this _to you_,' she said flatly.

'Ziva...'

'No, Tony. It is not fair on you. Mossad are not your problem.'

'Mossad are not your problem anymore either,' he interrupted.

'Yes, they are,' she argued sadly. 'They will always be my problem.'

'Ziva...' he repeated.

'Tony,' she addressed him flatly. 'I cannot ask you to do this.'

'Ziva, you are not doing anything to me.'

'If you are married to me, you cannot date, you cannot marry anyone else.'

'If I don't do this with you, Mossad will call you back. I will lose you again.'

'You will find another person to fill my shoes,' she dismissed.

'Do you want to go?' he asked incredulously.

She touched his arm lightly. 'No,' she murmured. 'I love it here.'

'So what's the problem?'

'You,' she answered, poking him in the ribs. 'It is too much to ask.'

'I chose to do this. I can't let you go. You aren't replaceable.' The elevator doors opened and they stepped out in tandem, the atmosphere different to when they stepped in. 'So let's go do this and keep you here.' He noticed her look of wariness lingering so he continued. 'It's only until Mossad give up on you,' he reminded her.

'That could be months, years,' she protested.

'But, if we don't, you will leave _forever_,' he countered. 'I am doing this.'

She nodded, not arguing but not yet persuaded. They marched into the bullpen where Gibbs was waiting behind his desk.

'Gibbs,' Tony greeted.

'Vance wants to see you, Ziva,' he told them, not looking up. 'Tony, stay here,' he called, as Tony followed Ziva towards the metal staircase.

Tony hesitated in the middle of the bullpen, uncertain whether to sit down and begin work or continue to wait.

'Tony, come here,' Gibbs ordered.

Tony hurried over to Gibbs desk and looked down at his boss, waiting for him to speak.

'Tony,' Gibbs began. 'Are you sure about this?'

Tony leapt in, not waiting for Gibbs to finish. 'Boss, if I don't, Ziva will be sent back to Mossad. The only way we will see her again is at her funeral.' He slammed his fist furiously on Gibbs desk, knocking over a pen cup. 'Hell, the last time we let her go, they lost her within weeks.' He gritted his teeth, trying to contain his bubbling anger that had suddenly erupted. 'We rescued her before. We can't just send her back again. Next time, we might not be able to save her.' His voice softened, glancing nervously over his shoulder to the top of the stairs, checking for Ziva. 'Gibbs, I did not save her just to let her go again.'

Gibbs stood up, his eyes flashing with a mixture of concealed emotions. 'I know that, Tony,' he replied, his cheery tone making Tony frown. 'And I don't want to lose her either.' He paused, leaning forward, the authoritarian attitude wilting as he became Tony's confidante. 'But this is a lot to ask of you. I know that you want to help her and you don't want to lose her, but they might not actually go through with their threat.' His eyes became kindly and fatherly as they bore into Tony's green ones. 'Have you thought this through?' he finished.

Tony did not hesitate before answering. 'I have thought about it and my answer did not change. I can't lose her.' He swallowed hard before continuing. 'I can't live without her.' He recalled the look on her face when he said that and his resolve to save Ziva strengthened. He was going to marry her.

Ziva paused, her hand on the metal doorknob to Vance's office. Eventually, she knocked, reminded of the last time she came in alone to ask for her job back.

'Come in,' a curt disembodied voice ordered.

Ziva pushed open the door and strode confidently in. 'Director Vance, you wish to see me,' she greeted politely, dreading what was to come.

'Agent David,' he addressed his tone brusque. 'I have just had a call from the manager of the jewellery store. It seems that you caused chaos there.' She met his gaze, stubbornly refusing to wilt and apologise. 'He has retracted his offer of a reduced price on a ring.' Ziva clenched her fists, hidden from his view by his desk. 'You will have to make up the difference with your own money.'

Ziva snapped. 'How am I meant to find enough money for that?'

'I don't know, Agent David,' Vance replied calmly. 'But you will have to find a way.'

'Can't we buy a cheaper ring?' she asked, knowing immediately the answer.

'No. Mossad will be expecting you to buy a proper ring with a genuine diamond. It needs to be believable. They will be looking for any excuse to claim that this marriage is a sham and have it retracted. They will have the right to recall you to your duties at Mossad.'

'I can't find that kind of money,' she protested.

'Find a way,' he ordered, ignoring her plea. 'You got yourself into this by knocking out those security guards.' He sighed, shaking his head at his trained assassin-turned-federal agent. 'I thought you had more discipline that that, Ziva,' he commented drily, using her first name. Ziva resisted the urge to feel guilty and instead kept her face passive. He sighed again, exasperated by her lack of co-operation. 'Control yourself, David,' he told her through tight lips before gesturing towards the door.

'Thank you, Director,' she nodded abruptly, striding back out of his office. Once outside, she slumped against the wall, closing her eyes. She still had major reservations about the plan and she wasn't sure if she would be able to go through with it and steal Tony's freedom from him. He deserved better than she could offer him.


	4. Hormonal Pizza

'Is that all you brought?' he asked incredulously. She glanced down at the two boxes she was lugging into his apartment in confusion.

'No,' she replied, wrinkling her nose as if he was stupid. 'There are two more boxes in the car.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'But that's it?' he persisted. 'That's all you're bringing?'

'How much were you expecting me to bring?' she asked, dropping the boxes on the ground.

'You are moving in indefinitely, not going on a weekend jaunt,' he told her. 'This isn't a holiday, Ziva.'

She rolled her eyes. 'I know, Tony.' She turned around and made her way to the door. 'Are you going to help me with the last two boxes or not?' Sighing and still frowning at her light packing, he followed her out the door.

Once all her boxes where placed in the middle of Tony's living room, Ziva surveyed her new home with a critical eye. She had been in Tony's apartment before but she had never expected to live there.

He noticed her scrutiny and flushed self-consciously. 'What do you think?' he asked, curious to know her opinion.

'It's fine,' she replied noncommittally.

'What do you mean?' he inquired, unsure what her tone was conveying.

She chuckled at his sensitivity. 'I mean, Tony, that I like it,' she told him slowly.

He smiled, pacified by her answer. He was looking forward to her stay but he was worried about the implications of constantly being under each other's feet, riling each other up and annoying each other, on their relationship. He led her into the bedroom.

Ziva's interest peaked at the sight of the bedroom. Vance had advised them to share a bed just to secure the believability of their relationship. Mossad had eyes everywhere - and she knew that better than most - so they would have to meticulously vigilant.

'I cleaned the sheets,' he informed, patting the bed proudly.

'Good,' she laughed.

Tony glanced at his watch. 'I ordered pizza.'

Ziva bit her lip, touched by all the trouble he was going to on her behalf. 'Tony,' she called after him as he turned to leave. She caught his arm and pulled him onto the bed, sitting herself beside him. 'I am not your guest. You do not need to treat me with such care.' She smiled. 'Normally when I come round, you shout at me from the shower to make myself at home. Don't let that change.' Her eyes were sincere and Tony was drawn into the large soft brown orbs.

'I won't,' he accepted, standing up and tugging her into the living room.

She flung herself down on the sofa, flinching as she hit the hard base. 'What have you been doing on here?' she asked disgustedly, staring at the stained, flat sofa cushion.

Tony flushed. 'I have had that sofa a long time,' he defended himself. 'I was young, reckless, stupid.' He noticed her revolted expression and pulled her up by her arms. 'Sit on this,' he guided her to a clean armchair.

'So,' she commented wryly. 'You had trouble reaching the bed.'

Tony's grinned awkwardly, his eyes wide at the innuendo. 'Uh...'

She laughed at his discomfort. 'You never used to have trouble discussing your sexual prowess,' she remarked lewdly.

He studied her, wondering what her intentions were. 'Most wives don't like to discuss their husband's previous conquests,' he told her.

Her eyes darkened and she sat up straighter, enlivened by the return of their normal banter. 'Most wives don't sit opposite their husbands for years listening to graphic descriptions that would be better placed in a porn film,' she countered.

Oddly enough, he took that as a compliment and smiled at her in thanks. 'Can I help it if I am so good?' he simpered.

She snorted sceptically. 'You have no idea,' she murmured softly.

Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He opened his mouth, racking his brain for a witty comeback, when he was rescued by the doorbell. He leapt up and hurried over to answer it. 'Pizza,' he called over his shoulder.

'I can see that, Tony,' she called back.

'My fiancée,' he explained to the delivery girl. 'She's pregnant, hormonal.' The delivery girl smiled, genuinely pleased for the couple, took her money and left, wishing Ziva her congratulations.

Tony turned back, his hands full with the pizza box, faced with an angry Ziva. 'Pregnant?' she queried. 'Let's not get ahead of ourselves, sweetie.'

Tony sat down on the sofa, balancing the pizza on his knees. 'Only deepening our cover,' he replied.

'Our cover is meant to be realistic, Tony,' she snapped. 'And I do not intend to become pregnant.'

'Good,' he answered. 'Because neither do I.'

'You should be glad that you are not marrying McGee,' she told him, taking a slice. 'He would be paranoid about getting pregnant now. You've jinxed me now,' she added, mumbling through a mouthful of pizza.

Tony sat there, speechless for a second. 'If McGee could pregnant, I'd have more problems than jinxing him,' he replied, finally regaining the ability to speak. He shuddered. 'Why would I be marrying McGee anyway?' he squawked, alarmed by the concept.

Ziva shrugged. 'You would look very good together,' she noted. 'Tony and Tim,' she growled sexually.

Tony leaned away from her, unnerved. 'Me and McGee,' he decided. 'Would make a terrible couple.'

'How so?'

'He would be too clingy,' Tony explained. 'Plus, I'm not gay so the sex would be terrible.'

'That is unfair on McGee,' Ziva scolded. 'I do not think that McGee would be clingy. He would charming and sweet.'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed. 'Clingy.'

Ziva rolled her eyes and slapped his wrist as he reached for the last slice of pizza. 'McGee is a gentleman.' She narrowed her eyes. 'For example, he would not steal someone else's slice of pizza.'

Tony ignored her last comment and stood up, abandoning the greasy box on the sofa. 'Do you want to shower first or should I?' he asked.

'Or together?' Ziva teased.

Tony did not respond but held her stare, stubbornly waiting for an answer.

Finally, Ziva relented. 'You go first. I have to unpack.' Tony beamed victoriously and strode towards the bathroom, his mind struggling not to imagine the scenario she had suggested: their naked bodies pressed together in the enclosed space, the warm water dripping off their bodies, and their faces inches away, breathing heavily.

Ziva recognised the lustful expression on his face and grinned to herself. This marriage was definitely not going to grow stale.


	5. Shadow Puppets

Ziva picked up the boxes and carried them one by one into the bedroom, her arms aching. She set them down by the wardrobe and jumped backwards onto the bed. She wriggled under the sheets, feeling the luxury cotton, freshly washed. She smiled to herself at his careful planning for her visit.

She could hear the shower running and she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of guilty pleasure imaging his muscles rippling as he rubbed his hair, the shampoo dripping down his glistening body. She reached out a hand to touch his ripped torso and stroke his bulging arms. He felt her caressing touch and leaned in, his wet face almost against hers. 'Tony,' she murmured, groaning slightly at the shivers that shot down her bare arms. 'Tony,' she repeated, slightly louder as her fantasy progressed to become more erotic and more vivid.

'Yes,' he replied casually, standing in the doorway, wrapped in a skimpy towel.

She sat up, her eyes snapping open. The rumble of the shower had stopped and the imagined, naked Tony was replaced with a real, barely covered Tony.

'Nothing,' she answered quickly, hopping off the bed to distract him from her taut voice. 'My turn?' she asked, slipping past him, her clothed chest grazing his naked one.

'All yours,' he offered, stepping back and gesturing towards the doorway. His eyes sparkled. 'Are you sure that you don't want company?'

Ziva put a finger up to her chin, pretending to consider it. She clenched her jaw, fighting away the alluring image of Tony pressing her against the cold tiles of the bathroom. She forced a smiled and shrugged. 'Feel free,' she called over her shoulder. 'We are getting married, remember, and that is what married people do, yes?'

He tensed at the unexpected answer, thrown off by his uncertainty as to whether she was serious or not. If she had been sincere in her offer, he would miss out on a golden opportunity if he did not take advantage of her willingness. However, if she had been joking and he joined her naked in the close quarters of the shower, it would confirm her belief that this was a bad idea and he would lose her to her father forever. It was quite a dilemma.

His heart pounding with uncertainty, he moved towards the bathroom door, pressing his ear against it. He hesitated a moment more, before placing his hand on the handle and turning it slowly.

Ziva peeled off her clothes, feeling slightly exposed, naked in an unfamiliar bathroom. Quickly, she stepped into the shower and turned the faucet on, feeling the cascade of water drum against her head, soaking her hair and plastering it to her head.

She peered out of the steamed glass, searching for a dark shadow entering the bathroom. When she had invited him in, she had done so jokingly but, now that the offer was on the table, she was curious to see whether he would accept. If he did, she would not object but would enjoy the fleeting moments of intimacy before they slipped away. Every touch between them was imprinted in her mind and a naked dance in the shower would be her most treasured memory.

Seeing nothing, she gave up on him and returned her attention to cleaning herself; a practical shower rather than a pleasurable sexual activity. She ran her fingers through her hair, reaching for the shampoo bottle. Squinting to keep the hot water out of her eyes, she read the label, interested in Tony's grooming habits. She began to rub the shampoo into her soaking hair, moving her body under the waterfall of warm water as she did so.

Tony slipped quietly through the door, his mind making up possible excuses in case she shrieked at the sight of him. His eyes hovered on the sink in front of him, averting his gaze from the clouded glass shower cubicle. He stepped into the room, holding his towel firmly in place to avoid any unnecessary exposure.

He sighed at his own embarrassment over Ziva's body and turned directly towards the shower, his eyes widening at the sight. A slender shadow was writhing behind the glass, the dark shape enlarged by the light cinematically. Scenes from movies popped into his head but none of the actors shown could beat Ziva's entrancing dance. Mesmerised, he took another step towards the shower, his eyes transfixed on the figure projected onto the glass.

Ziva hummed an Israeli song under her breath, dancing to the rhythmic melody. Her hands were above her head and her waist was shaking from side to side, her legs swaying. Her back was towards the door and her eyes were closed, her ears deafened by the roar of the water.

At the chorus, she spun around on one leg, her ballet training paying off as she pirouetted on the slippery floor. She opened her eyes and mouth, preparing to sing to next verse in Hebrew. A gloomy figure was visible through the clouds of steam on the other side of the glass. Frowning, she tried to work out if Tony was turned towards her or not. She couldn't decide so she opened the door, not ashamed of her bare body.

Tony recoiled as the door opened and a bronze leg emerged through the misty veil cast by the evaporating water. He glanced towards the door, considering running out of it, escaping the potentially dangerous confrontation. However, his nerves stilled and he remained steadfastly rooted to the ground.

'Tony,' she addressed him, the rest of her body hidden as the steam dissipated slowly.

'Ziva,' he returned, forcing his voice to stay calm.

'Tony,' she repeated, choosing her next words carefully. She did not want to overstep the line and make a fool out of herself or make Tony uncomfortable. He had already done enough for her. 'Do you need something?'

Tony licked his lips, wondering what was being hinted at, if anything. 'Uh, no,' he replied before changing his answer. 'I thought maybe I would take you up on your offer.' His voice did not convey any of the hopes and lusty desires raging in him.

'Sure,' she agreed, stepping back into the shower. 'Come on in. There's room for two.'

Tony's mouth fell open, his body paralysed.

'Coming?' she asked, slightly impatient.

'Yeah,' he called back, his towel dropping to the ground.

**Not sure how graphic the next chapter should get – I could bump the rating up to M or I could leave it as a T.**


	6. Interesting Cleaning Methods

**Loved today's episode – I don't usually get excited about NCIS episodes but I can't wait for next weeks. I am a little confused, however – why was Ray with her so early on? He has been with her for almost a year so why would he be waiting so long? If anyone can explain this to me, feel free. So sad though, that Ziva always manages to choose men who have ulterior motives. I actually preferred Rivkin to Ray – Rivkin was much hotter, as was Ari (though obviously Ziva did not sleep with Ari: that would be creepy).**

Ziva disappeared behind the curtain of steam and Tony was once again left with a shadow on the clouded glass. However, this time, a glimpse of the real body was not what he had to look forward to. He stepped into the shower, his leg tingling with excitement as it led the way.

No sooner had he thrust his leg into the shower, he was pulling it back out with a cry of pain. The skin on his leg was throbbing red, scalded by the burning water.

'Ziva!' he exclaimed, wailing in agony. 'What are you trying to do?'

She poked her head round the door, her cheek pressed against the glass. 'What?' she asked, frowning innocently at Tony's crimson leg.

'The water is boiling!' he shouted, hopping about clutching his burned leg.

'Oh,' she apologised, her face stricken with horror. 'I'm sorry. I forgot to warn you.'

'Damn right you did,' he spat.

'Tony, I'm so sorry,' she cried, climbing out of the shower and revealing her whole body.

Tony gulped, his attention wavering from his scalded leg to her radiant body. He let go of his leg and stood up properly, determined not to waste this prime opportunity, although he flinched as his foot touched the cold tiled floor.

'Tony, I'm so sorry,' she repeated, bending over to examine the red skin. Tony bent his neck, staring down at her breasts barely grazing his skin as she leaned over to peer closely. He knelt down too, catching her hands in his and pulling her into him.

'Kiss it better,' he whispered, guiding her lips towards his face.

'Will it make you feel better?' she murmured back, her mahogany orbs glistening with mischief.

'Yes,' he pleaded. 'It is your fault, after all.'

Smirking, she plucked at his lips, standing up and leaving him hanging.

'Is that it?' he complained. 'That wasn't a kiss.'

'I'm cold,' she called, returning to the shower. 'You have to come and fetch it.'

He straightened up, hesitating just outside the stream of water, his leg aching as a warning. She noticed his trepidation and turned the knob, cooling the water.

'It's colder,' she told him, shivering under the comparatively icy blast.

Clenching his fists and preparing for a burst of sizzling water, he bravely stepped into the shower to join her. 'Oh,' he exclaimed, finding the water his preferred temperature. 'You did turn it down.'

She scowled, her expression blurry due to the clouds of steam. 'You didn't believe me?' she inquired, hurt by his distrust.

He grinned and reached out, his arms curling round her soaked waist, bringing her closer to him. 'I'm sorry,' he breathed in her ear, just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the water. 'How can I make it up to you?'

'Well,' she considered, moving slowly towards him. He took a step back but immediately found himself against the wall of the shower. 'That's a very interesting question.'

He raised his arm, pointing to an imaginary watch. 'Time's ticking. Offer runs out in five seconds,' he warned. She frowned at the watch demonstration, confused by his actions, her brow puckering adorably. He lifted a finger and smoothed out the frown. 'Frowning gives you wrinkles,' he muttered, his mouth pressed against her ear.

'I never intended to live long enough to have to worry about wrinkles,' she replied calmly.

'Intended?' he repeated, all sexual thoughts replaced by a horror at the admission.

'Expected,' she corrected, her fingers stroking his cheek.

He opened his mouth to continue the inquisition but her finger moved to his lips, quieting him.

'Five seconds are almost up,' she whispered, flexing her arms menacingly.

In one swift movement, she pushed him against the glass, his back clearing the condensation, and kissed him gently. He drew her closer, lifting her so that she was straddling him. Their lips were pressed together so tightly, in order to get the most out of the kiss as possible, that it only lasted a few seconds before they had to tear themselves apart to breathe.

His hands were supporting her butt cheeks, holding her off the ground, and he was squeezing them, eliciting a pleased squeal from Ziva. Her lips moved to his neck and she nipped gently at it. He allowed himself a pleasured moan but he gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his penis lax. He reminded himself that he was naked and that she would be able to see everything, but this reminder only served to stiffen his erection as his attention was drawn back to the fact that Ziva was naked as well and passionately kissing his neck.

She dropped her legs, touching the floor lightly, and continued down until her mouth was parallel with his penis. Glancing up at his face quickly, she stuck her tongue out and licked the tip. It hardened even more – if that was possible – and he ejaculated. She grinned, proud of the effect she was still able to have on him, and lapped up the semen, tasting him.

He fell backwards, his legs weak with excitement, relying on the glass for support. Feeling him falter, she left the oral sex for later and straightened up, kissing him firmly on the mouth. She peeled him off the glass and pulled him back under the stream of water, returning to the practical issue of cleaning herself.

He gasped, completely turned on by her laving, and decided to join in. He pushed the door open and reached out, feeling blindly for his sponge. He found it and brought it in, holding it up for approval. Taking her beam as a sign of agreement, he enveloped her in another hug, rubbing her back with the sponge. She muttered incoherently, her mouth fallen open. He grinned and kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth.

She shivered from the oddly erotic feeling the circles he was drawing on her back with the sponge gave her. Stretching up as far as she could go, her fingers ran through his wet hair, trailing down his spine to his butt. She grinned as she grasped hold of his toned cheeks and spun him round, her tongue following the same path as her fingers down his back but stopped at the bottom of his spine.

He groaned, the sound choking out of his mouth, and stepped away, unable to take any more torturous anticipation. He turned around and grabbed her waist, manoeuvring her into position, ready to penetrate her finally.

**This required a lot of research – quite fun research actually – and was very hard to write so I hope it lives up to expectations. The general consensus was to bump up the rating and go graphic so this will continue next chapter. This story was meant to be a **_**story **_**with limited sex but I guess it goes where it wants to and I have no control. The author's notes are running away with me here so I will shut up and let you get back to your lives. Hope you enjoyed!**


	7. Wet Play

The water aided his penetration and he slipped smoothly inside her, groaning into her wet hair. She snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. The water was drumming on her head, the shampoo dripping down her body, and he was inside her.

He thrust himself in and out, his movements aggressive, grunts being forced out with the exertion. She felt herself nearing a climax and she arched her back, screaming from the pleasure he was giving her. Grinning, he pumped harder, determined to completely satisfy her. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, and her feet lifted clear off the ground as she came, the deafening scream shrieking through his head.

Her bodies were pressed together so tightly that she could feel every rippling muscle and their lips once more collided. Her hands were all over his body, constantly exploring his smooth skin. She lifted her thigh up and he grabbed it, holding it against his hip, his fingers gently pinching the skin.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into his vivid green eyes. She smiled peacefully, worn out from the raw, potent emotions that had been kindled unexpectedly in her. He gazed back at her, the gushing water the only movement in the whole apartment. His inquisitive eyes mined into her complex brown orbs, diving for pearls of wisdom and insight into her current mood.

She kissed him lightly, the violent passion evaporated but the love still smouldering. His eyes moved upwards, eying the trails of shampoo left in her dark hair. He let go of her thigh and began to stroke her hair, his fingers trailing through the sodden strands, rubbing all the shampoo out of her hair.

She moaned as his fingers massaged her scalp, her own fingers closing around his member. It stiffened reluctantly in her grasp, tired from the energetic sex. Her chest rose and fell; riding the waves like an Aussie rides the surf. She shook her shoulders, releasing the pent up tension that had built during the sex.

His hands rinsed her hair, his fingers moving in circles on her head. He could feel himself stiffen in her hand and he gulped, willing himself not to ejaculate on her clean skin. His hands fell to her cheek and he guided her face towards his, his lips plucking at hers. He growled into her mouth as her grip on his hardened erection tightened.

She squeezed her fist tighter, feeling the erection more intimately. He growled into her mouth, the sound sending shivers down her spine despite the warm water trickling down it. His lips left her mouth and moved to her shoulder, his teeth nipping gently at her skin. She breathed heavily, suddenly light headed. She tipped her neck to one side, leaving him a larger surface of flawless skin to stimulate.

Her skin was so soft to his lips and he slowly moved down her front, his lips glancing down her skin until he came to her breast. His tongue ran around her nipple and flicked it, eliciting a choked sound from her. He glanced up, tilting his head to look at her expression. Her eyes were closed but her lips were curved to form a peaceful smile, her face relaxed in bliss. He was filled with a sudden desire to kiss her lips, battle with her tongue, gaze into her eyes with her pupils inches away from him.

In one fell swoop, he had straightened up, his nose bashing hers as he rammed into her. She kissed him back, soft caresses being beaten by passionate aggression.

The water was still raining down on their heads, a dull roar to their deafened ears. The hot water ran out and abruptly it was an icy torrent cascading down.

Ziva shrieked and tried to leap out of the waterfall, colliding with Tony and pushing him against the glass. His fingers fumbled with the door, feeling for the handle, while Ziva reached for the shower knob to turn it off. They found their targets simultaneously, the water flow stemmed at the same time as the door swung open and they both tumbled out, naked and falling. Ziva landed on top of Tony, her breasts squashed against his chest, her lips pushed onto his forehead.

Tony sat up, rubbing the back of his head. Ziva rolled off him, turning to face with a look of concern.

'Are you alright?' she inquired softly.

He winced as he nodded, answering confidently, 'Yes, I'm fine, Ziva.'

'Are you sure?' she persisted, crawling round to look at the bruise.

'Honestly, Ziva, don't worry,' he protested.

She pursed her lips in thought. 'Well, I can't see anything,' she accepted.

He twisted round to kiss her gently on the cheek. 'Something always has to go wrong,' he remarked drily. She smiled and stood up, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

He stepped back, his eyes darting up and down her body. So far, he had not taken a moment to fully appreciate her naked body. He lapped it up, imprinting it in his memory. Her hair was wet and plastered to her round face, the drips of clear water running in rivulets down her damp skin, following the contours of her breasts and hips. Her stomach was flat and tanned, droplets of water dotted across the smooth, caramel expanse. Her legs were muscular and extended down to the ground for what seemed like an endless length of dewy skin.

She smiled, flattered by his approving scrutiny and turned around, showing off her behind to her appreciative audience, under the pretence of retrieving his towel. He gulped, confronted by a sculpted back and a toned, tight ass. She bent her knees, kneeling down to pick up his towel and her skin tautened, hardening his erection.

She could feel his gaze burning into her back and she straightened up, wordlessly handing him his towel and reaching for another. She wrapped it adeptly around her chest and turned, swaying her hips to leave a lasting impression on him.

He groaned as a jumble of memories crashed down on him. His eyes flickered down towards his obstinate erection before darting towards the shower. Sighing, he stepped into the shower, tensing as a torrent of freezing water hit his body. He grinned and bore it, however, reminding himself that if Ziva was to be a lasting entity in his apartment, he would have to get used to having regular cold showers. She was just too hot for her own good and definitely too hot for his peace of mind.


	8. I Preferred You Naked McGee, says Tony

Ziva returned to the bedroom, finally starting the task of unpacking. Every move she made reminded her of Tony's body pressed against her, soaking wet and rubbing itself against her. Tony had climbed back into the shower and the familiar sound now had erotic connotations which sent sparks flying around her body. The bathroom could never be a mundane place again. Especially not Tony's bathroom.

She pulled out her skimpy cotton pyjamas, pausing to imagine Tony's face when he saw the skin exposed by it. She dropped them on the bed and reached into the box, bringing out the plastic bag she had filled with bras. She delved in and brought out a black lacy bra, smirking at the sexy fabric which had the ability to reduce Tony to a ragdoll completely at her mercy.

The doorbell rang and she tipped the bras onto Tony's bed, tying the bag in a knot and hurrying off to answer it, forgetting her revealing state of dress. She peered through the peephole, throwing open the door when she saw McGee standing on the other side of the door.

'McGee,' she greeted.

'Uh,' he faltered, his gaze shifting uncomfortably.

'What?' she frowned.

'Uh,' he repeated hesitantly. 'You, uh, aren't wearing much.'

She looked down at herself and grimaced. 'Sorry,' she apologised. 'I'll get dressed. Come in,' she offered. McGee stepped into Tony's apartment.

'It looks the same,' he remarked.

She chuckled. 'Of course it does, McGee. What were you expecting me to do to it?'

'People always say that when a woman moves in, they change everything,' he explained, his ears flushing pink. 'You know, paint it white, move the furniture, scatter cushions...' He tailed off, noticing Ziva's disapproving glare.

'McGee,' she defended. 'You have seen my apartment. Is it white? Are there cushions everywhere?'

'No,' he mumbled, shrugging.

'Glad we understand each other,' she smiled, heading towards the bedroom. 'I am going to change,' she called over her shoulder.

McGee wandered through the living room, taking a seat on the sofa, his back towards the bedroom. He took his phone from his pocket and began to text Abby, having promised her a full description of the situation. Ziva reappeared, fully dressed, and went into the kitchen.

'Coffee, McGee?' she offered.

'Yes, please,' he accepted, still texting.

She busied herself with the kettle, feeling very domestic making tea for a guest.

Tony stepped out of the shower, pausing with his hand reaching for the towel. He grinned and pulled his hand away, leaving himself bare. He ran his hands through his hair and opened the door, striding into the bedroom.

His eyes went straight to the bed, gleaming at the sight of a pile of lacy bras. He ran his hands through them, groaning as he pictured Ziva crawling towards him on the bed. He grabbed a handful and decided to put his fantasy into action.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her make coffee for them. 'Hey, Ziva,' he called.

She spun round and gasped at his unclothed body. He smirked proudly and took a step towards her, waving her bras above his head. 'You got dressed,' he noted disappointedly. 'I preferred you naked.'

Ziva was still standing in the kitchen, struck speechless. McGee sent his text and twisted around to look over the sofa and greet Tony.

'Hi, Tony,' he piped up cheerfully, before choking on his words. His eyes clamped shut and he spun back around. 'Oh, God,' he muttered. 'I'm blind.'

Tony yelled out as McGee turned to look at him, his hands flying immediately to cover himself up. 'McGee,' he shouted. 'What are you doing here?'

Ziva erupted into a fit of giggles, bent double against the fridge. McGee's face was bright red with embarrassment and shock. Tony retreated hastily into the bedroom, dressing hurriedly before returning.

'Ziva,' he reprimanded. 'Why didn't you tell me that McGee was here?'

'It all happened too quickly,' she defended. 'And it was too funny to pass up.' She laughed, her hands shaking as she poured out the coffee. 'I preferred you naked, McGee!' she imitated.

'I, uh, I've got to go,' McGee excused himself, hurrying towards the door. 'Uh, nice to see you,' he called over his shoulder.

'Every little bit of you,' Ziva added. Tony scowled, snatching his mug of coffee from her.

'And for that, Ziva,' he told her. 'You don't get anymore sex tonight.'

She smirked, flicking his nose with her finger. 'We'll see about that, Tony,' she murmured.

**I have run out of sex scenes for the moment – yesterday I wrote five of them for different stories – so the next chapter will be sex free as well. I am going away on holiday in four days and there is no internet access in remote villages in the Scottish Highlands so I won't be able to update for at least twelve days after I leave. Until then, though, I shall try and update as quickly as possible to make up for it. Reviews would help...**


	9. Traditional Methods

**I realised that we are eight chapters in and we're still on the first few hours of them living together. I need to pick up the pace – although no one has complained yet so I assume that you don't mind... I might be going back on what I said at the end of the last chapter: there will most likely be at least some sex in here. I did bump up the rating, after all, so I might as well make the most of it.**

Ziva hopped up onto the counter and took a sip of her coffee, gazing over the rim of her mug at Tony's face. He noticed her staring and grinned, his lips painted with a creamy brown froth. She laughed, leaning over and licking it off.

She tried to pull back once she had run her tongue over his lips, but his strong arms encircled her waist and held her close to him, kissing her firmly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed off the counter, sitting on his hips with her arms around his neck.

'You know, I should be scared,' he commented. 'Having an assassin put me in a chokehold.'

She tightened her grip, forcing his face to meet hers. 'But you aren't?' she inquired innocently.

'You want to sleep with me,' he explained. 'You can't have sex with me if you kill me.'

She shrugged, running her tongue around his ear. 'That's true,' she admitted.

'So?' he prompted.

'What?' she smiled.

'Do you want to have sex with me, or not?' he asked bluntly.

'I thought you had put down your foot,' she reminded him.

'Well,' he defended. 'Since you got that idiom right, I think you deserve a treat.'

She chuckled, kissing his cheek chastely. 'I can tell that you are going to be a pushover,' she noted, releasing her grasp on him and touching down on the floor, leading him into the bedroom.

He allowed himself to be led; only taking control when they got near the doorway to the bedroom. Stopping suddenly, he swung her into his arms. 'We've got to practise for the wedding,' he told her, carrying her into the bedroom. She giggled and squirmed in his arms. He flung her onto the bed, watching her bounce up and down on the springy mattress. She scrambled to her feet, leaping off the bed.

'You'll have to catch me first,' she called. He accepted the challenge and ran after her, shouting and whooping like a little kid. 'Come and find me,' she sang, skipping round the living room, dodging his flailing hands. Eventually, he caught her and tackled her to the ground.

'Gotcha,' he hollered. 'I've got you,' he repeated, whispering into her ear.

'Yes, you have,' she replied. 'So, what are you going to do with me?'

He grinned, lifting her up again. 'I'm bedding you. We are going to consummate this arrangement properly.'

'We have already done that,' she pointed out.

'Sex in the shower is not a traditional method. We have to do this right,' he argued.

'You can only consummate marriages,' she persisted.

'This is a practise run,' he conceded.

'Since when did you need to practise before you have sex?' she asked.

'Since when did you object to having sex?' he countered.

'I'm just making sure that we do this right,' she protested, imitating his voice.

He carried her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. 'We don't McGee coming back,' he explained. Ziva giggled. He tipped her out of his arms onto the bed, leaping on top of her before she could escape again. His hands wriggled under her shirt, his fingers walking up her still slightly damp skin.

He bent his face down, kissing her lightly on her forehead. A smile came over his face and Ziva shrieked as his fingers began to tickle her relentlessly.

'Tony,' she screamed, writhing under his weight pinning her down. 'Tony!'

'I've really got you now, Ziva,' he remarked, increasing his efforts. He was laughing along with her hysterical shrieks. The sound was so uncharacteristically Ziva and he found this girlish side to her hilarious. 'You are completely at my mercy.'

'Tony, stop!' she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. 'Please,' she gasped. 'Please, Tony!'

He pretended to consider it, beaming down at her. 'Ummm,' he elongated. 'No,' he decided.

'Tony,' she warned, tensing her muscles ready for an escape bid. 'Don't make me do this, Tony.'

'Do what?' he taunted. 'You can't do anything.'

She sighed theatrically and flipped him over, rolling on top of him and trapping him.

'I'm sorry,' he begged. 'I was going to stop, honest. Please don't tickle me.'

She laughed, leaning her face down. 'I will not hurt you, Tony,' she murmured. 'Like you said earlier, I need you alive for what I am about to do.'

His eyes sparkled and widened as she stripped off her shirt, flinging it at the wall behind her. He had seen her topless just a couple of hours earlier, but he was still enthralled by her bare chest. He had five years of fantasies to make up for. And, he guessed, so did she.

He rolled her over, daring her to object. She remained silent, her submissive eyes saying everything for her. Her hands pulled his t-shirt over his head and it joined hers on the floor.

'You're tidying that up,' he told her.

She smirked. 'That's what you think,' she murmured, kissing him lightly.

She felt Tony's weight pressing down on her, his eyes gazing down at her as he lay on top. She kissed him, her head rising off the pillow slightly to meet his mouth.

His lips were soft and she ran her tongue across them, relishing Tony's salty taste. Her hands clasped behind his neck, forcing him down to her. She tangled her legs with his, rubbing them and causing him to moan in pleasure. She smiled and kissed him fondly again. He murmured softly in her ear, her straightened hair gracing his cheek.

She replied, her lips touching his ear and her tongue flicking out and licking it gently. He shivered at the slight touch, all his senses tingling.

She flipped him over, begging him to enter her. He considered this and his hands went to cup her butt, his erection burning with unsatisfied desire. Wincing with the pain at his crotch, he obeyed, thankful for the release.

She smiled down at him and began to grind, her hips slowly rubbing against his. Her hands affectionately stroked his cheek as he pulled out, her orgasm over. She stayed on top of him, her hands placed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowing. Her head drooped and rested on his shoulder, falling into a peaceful slumber. Smiling at her weariness, he copied her and soon the pair was snoozing quietly, waiting for the morning when they would have to work out what the evening meant to them.

**I can't decide: go back to my original intentions of a plot story about their life living together in a pretend marriage, or continue as it took me with the multitude of sex... Help?**


	10. The Morning After

Ziva woke up, her arm draped over Tony's chest. She stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Glancing over at the alarm clock, her eyes widened and she jumped off the bed, hurrying into the bathroom.

She stared at her dishevelled reflection in the mirror. She splashed her face with water, rubbing vigorously at the smudged eyeliner blotting her usually clear skin.

She had never got dressed so she was still naked, allowing her just to step into the shower. She gritted her teeth, refusing to allow herself to think about their steamy activities underneath the spray of water.

She rinsed the sweat off her body and wrapped herself in a towel. Her mind was swimming with hazy images of the night before and she needed to focus and get her thoughts in order.

She found a pot full of cold coffee, abandoned on the counter when Tony carried her off to bed. Pouring it into the sink, she rejected the idea of making a fresh pot.

Closing her eyes, she sank to the floor. The evening had passed in a blur and neither of them had stepped back at any point and thought about their actions. Consequently, they had had virulent sex, albeit passionate and wonderful, and 'the morning after' had not been given any thought to. Now that it was 'the morning after,' Ziva regretted that thoughtlessness.

Straightening up, she dressed quickly in the clothes she found discarded on the floor of Tony's bedroom and left the apartment.

She jogged towards her old apartment, taking up her daily route from the normal starting point. She wound her way through the side streets, smiling at the regular people she met, and then she turned into the park. She paused, leaning against a fence, and staring blankly out across the expanse of green.

An orange hat was bobbing round the corner and her shoulders slumped, reminded callously of Roy Sanders, her first love since uprooting herself from Israel. The hat disappeared round the corner and her attention turned to an Asian man walking a dog. In her mind, he morphed into Rivkin, turning and blowing her a kiss. She didn't return the gesture.

She lowered her gaze, staring at the child and seeing her brother, Ari, carefree and loving as a child, heartless and cruel as an adult. Her breath caught in her throat and she choked on a sob, steadying herself on the fence behind her. A hand was laid comfortingly on her shoulder and she twisted round to look at its owner. Tony's face smiled down at her. She blinked, making sure that she wasn't hallucinating.

'Ziva,' he murmured. 'Are you ok?'

She nodded, smiling cheerfully. 'Yeah,' she assured him. 'What are you doing here?'

'I woke and found that you were gone,' he began accusingly.

'Sorry,' she apologised. 'I didn't want to wake you up.'

'Since I knew your route, I thought that instead of waiting at home, I'd see if I could catch up with you,' he continued.

'You did not catch me up,' she protested.

'Fine,' he conceded. 'I drove to the entrance of the park.' She laughed and took his hand, pulling him after her as she jogged. 'Try to keep up,' she challenged.

'You're on,' he accepted, bursting into a sprint. She laughed and increased her pace only slightly, waiting for him to run out of energy. She didn't have to wait long since five minutes later he had fallen back beside her. 'I'm not a morning person,' he defended.

They jogged back to Tony's house, keeping in step with each other. Neither of them spoke much; Tony was too out of breath and Ziva was not ready to broach the subject of sex yet. Nevertheless, the silence was not awkward; they spent too much time together to need to fill every space with meaningless words.

Tony unlocked the door and ushered Ziva in politely. She thanked him and headed straight for the bedroom, dressing in clean clothes and returning refreshed and relaxed.

Tony was not a spy, he was not dying and he was not a terrorist. He was not her destructive brother, her deceased unconsummated love and he was not her deceitful Israeli boyfriend. She could trust him. She did trust him. She would always trust him.

She walked over to the table, sitting down at his instruction. He turned around, revealing a tray laden with coffee, pancakes and chocolate. She licked her lips, finding that she was ravenous after her elongated morning jog. He placed the tray in front of her and sat down beside her, taking his own plate off the tray.

'What's this in aid of, Tony?' she asked.

'We're getting married,' he answered. 'Is that not reason enough to celebrate?'

'Sure,' she accepted. 'This is good,' she added through a mouthful of pancake.

'Of course it is,' he boasted. 'I am a very good cook.'

She snorted. 'Not usually,' she argued. 'Don't forget, Tony, we are getting married. I know everything about you.'

'You do not,' he contradicted.

'Yes, I do.'

'Like what?' he sneered.

'I know that you liked the sex last night,' she retorted.

He opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. 'I thought you weren't going to talk about it,' he muttered.

'You don't want to talk about it?' she inquired.

'No,' he explained. 'I thought that you didn't want to.'

'Tony,' she sighed. 'We have to be a realistic couple. To do that, we must have sex.'

'Yeah, but we have gone undercover as a couple before and the sex didn't get that passionate,' he argued.

Ziva rolled her eyes. 'The last time we went undercover we had only just met. We did not have the history we have now. Also, we are not undercover now. We are actually going to get married and the extent of scrutiny we are under is on a completely different scale. To deceive Mossad, we will need to prove that we are actually in love.'

Tony's face fell slightly at the 'actually' she threw into her speech. 'So,' he ventured slowly. 'This is all just an act? You didn't enjoy last night.'

'I enjoyed it,' Ziva replied simply. 'But that doesn't change the fact that it is pretend.' Tony nodded and got up, clearing the plates.

'We have to go to work,' he told her. 'We're going to be late already.'

**Thank you for your suggestions, they really help. Keep them coming.**


	11. This Is The Thanks I Get?

**So the general consensus was that it should have a strong plot with lots of sex too. And I like that idea so that's what we'll do. I would also just like to say sorry to those people who wrote to me telling me that Chapter 10 was not working. I tried it and they were right but I can't log in because it won't let me. I will try to fix it when it lets me but until then I shall write the new chapter.**

Ziva nodded and wordlessly collected her things, waiting patiently by the door for Tony to join her.

'I'm driving,' she announced, breaking the tension.

Tony snorted dismissively. 'It's my car,' he protested.

'Who said that we would take your car?' she inquired. 'I have a car too.'

'My car's bigger,' he argued.

Ziva reached the top step and broke into a run, charging down the flight of stairs. 'Race you for it,' she shouted over her shoulder.

'That's not fair,' Tony yelled back, stumbling as he tried to catch up with her. 'You had a head start!'

She reached the bottom and ran outside, climbing into her car. She started the engine and waited for Tony to climb in beside her.

'That was unfair,' he complained, buckling his seatbelt. 'You had a head start.'

'You have longer legs than me,' she countered, speeding down the street.

Tony clutched at his seat, his mouth open ready to shout if she went too fast for his stomach to handle. She hurtled through a red light and screeched past a slow moving lorry, skidding round a corner.

'Hey!' Tony shouted, doubling over and losing his breakfast.

Ziva braked sharply, winding his window down. 'Out the window,' she ordered, wrinkling her nose at the mess.

'You shouldn't go so fast,' he groaned, pulling his head back in, his face pale.

'You threw up in my car,' she remarked sourly. 'That is going to stain.'

'It wasn't my fault,' he protested, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

'I managed to keep my breakfast down,' she retorted.

'I make you a nice cooked breakfast and this is the thanks I get?' Tony complained.

'I am not the one who wasted it,' she commented, starting the car again. Tony moaned softly to himself, clutching his stomach in preparation for the churning that would soon occur with Ziva's driving.

The rest of the journey was punctuated only by a few grunted warnings from Tony demanding that Ziva 'slow the hell down or I'll puke again.' Ziva reluctantly obeyed all these requests for a while, speeding up again minutes later.

Tony pushed his door open the second that Ziva stopped in the car park, toppling out of the death trap. Ziva scowled at the foot-well on the passenger side, sighing at the thought of arguing with Tony about who cleaned it up. She was determined that it was not going to be her.

Tony heaved himself to his feet, leaning on the roof of the short car and glaring at Ziva over the red hunk of metal. 'I am getting a taxi back,' he told her. 'There is no way that I am driving with you again today.'

'I will join you,' Ziva replied, smiling sweetly. 'I do not wish to drive in this smell. Tomorrow, when we come to work, you can bring a mop and some bleach. Spend your break productively for a change.'

'I am not cleaning that up,' Tony refused flatly, walking towards the entrance.

The argument continued throughout the elevator ride up to the bullpen, its volume increasing. McGee could hear the shouting

'You make the mess, you clean it up,' Ziva yelled, her face inches from Tony's.

'I wasn't the one who drove like a lunatic,' Tony roared back.

'If you weren't so weak, you would be able to stand my driving,' Ziva screamed, stamping her foot in frustration.

'No one can stand your driving, Ziva!'

'Gibbs can!'

'Gibbs never lets you drive!'

'He is protective of his car! It has nothing to do with my driving!'

'He is protective because he knows that you would drive it into a lamp post!'

'I have never been in a crash,' Ziva hissed, firmly denying the allegation.

'Don't lie,' Tony accused. 'You crashed into an ambassador's car with me sitting beside you so you can't fool me!'

Ziva snarled at him, either not able to reply convincingly or not deigning to answer. She turned on her heel and stalked towards her desk. Tony followed, red in the face from all the shouting.

The whole room had stood up to watch the argument, their work abandoned on their desks. McGee had sunk down in his chair, trying to distance himself from his screeching co-workers.

Ziva switched her computer on, jabbing at the on button with such ferocity that the monitor threatened to fall off the desk and crash down on the floor. Tony smirked, gently pressing the button on his. Ziva growled at him, baring her teeth menacingly. He just grinned, taunting her.

McGee glanced around, desperate for Gibbs's intervention. Gibbs was nowhere to be seen, however, so the responsibility of avoiding a full out fight fell to McGee. 'So, uh, how was the drive?' he attempted lamely.

'She almost killed us both,' Tony growled.

'He threw up in my car,' Ziva snapped.

'Wouldn't have happened if I had been driving,' he retorted.

'We wouldn't be here yet if you were driving,' she argued, turning away from him.

McGee gave up and left them to their bickering. They took their seats behind their respective desks and glared at each other fiercely until Ziva rose from her chair and strode off in the direction of the toilets. Tony watched her go before leaving as well, heading towards the elevator. McGee stared at their empty desks resignedly. He would never be able to understand them.

Ziva went into the women's bathroom, ignoring the toilets and going straight into the cleaning supplies cupboard. She took out a handful of cloths and a bottle of bleach before leaving, hurrying down the stairs to avoid going back through the bullpen. She emerged into the bright light of the car park and jogged towards her conspicuous red Mini Cooper.

Tony left the elevator at the ground floor and went in search of his Janitor friend. He begged a handful of cloths and a bottle of bleach of him, before walking into the car park, spotting Ziva's bright red Mini Cooper instantly.

He reached the car and took out his key chain, flicking through them to find the copy he made of Ziva's car key a few years previous. He found it and opened the door, crawling inside and beginning his task of cleaning up the passenger seat foot-well.

Ziva approached the car cautiously, her senses tingling because the car was rocking slightly on its axes. She peered through the window and let out a short laugh when she saw Tony kneeling on the seat scrubbing violently at the stained floor. She opened the driver's side door and joined him.

He saw Ziva climbing in beside him, and grinned, pleased that she had had the same idea as him. Their heads bumped together as they rubbed the carpet vigorously and their hands kept touching, sending tingles up their arm at the contact.

'I think it's clean now,' Ziva remarked, ignoring the fact that it had been clean for at least ten minutes but they had kept going in order to continue 'accidentally' brushing each other's hands. Neither would admit to it, mostly because they had had copious sex the night before and yet they still acted like shy teenagers whenever they touched.

'Yeah,' Tony agreed, sitting up.

Ziva leant over to him, rubbing her finger on his cheek to rub a smudge of bleach of it. She dropped her hand down to her side but left her face close to his. 'Thank you,' she murmured.

He nodded, smiling at the warm breath hitting his face. 'You too,' he replied. Their lips were almost touching, just one more centimetre and they would have been kissing.

Ziva blinked slowly, studying every shade of green in Tony's eyes. She smiled lazily, the grin spreading across her face. She ran her tongue over her lips, preparing to kiss him, when a sudden chiming of tinny movie music interrupted her plans.

Tony's hand slapped his pocket and he drew out his vibrating phone. Sighing, he answered it. 'What is it, McGee,' he snapped. He waited for McGee to reply, staring at Ziva's face the whole time. 'Yeah...Yeah...Ok, Probie, we're coming.' He hung up and smiled at Ziva. 'Gibbs wants us,' he explained. Ziva nodded, leaning backwards to get out of the car. 'Wait!' he stopped her. She paused, waiting for him to speak. Instead, he cupped her chin and kissed her. 'Ok, let's go, wife,' he said cheerily, releasing her lips. Beaming, they both climbed out of the car and walked back into the building, their shoulder's bumping every step they took.

**Ok, quick question. What religion is Tony? I need to know for my next chapter or the one after that. I made a short plan outlining the next few chapters (so proud of my organisational skills) and I need to know so please tell me!**


	12. Wipe Clean Surfaces

**11 Chapters, 50 reviews, 14,300 hits, 87 alerts and 30 favourites: I think that this is going quite well.**

'I'm off, McGee,' Tony announced. 'The taxi's waiting.'

'Back home to your wife,' McGee grinned back.

Tony smirked to himself and left, climbing into the taxi.

'Where to?' the taxi driver inquired cheerfully. Tony recited his address and the taxi driver nodded approvingly. 'Great neighbourhood,' he remarked. 'Lots of bars, lots of chicks.'

Tony grinned and opened his mouth to agree, stopping himself just in time. 'I'm engaged,' he replied.

The taxi driver twisted round in his seat, eying Tony's hand dubiously. 'Where's your ring?' he asked, continuing before he had an answer. 'You given up on wearing it to work already?' he raised his eyebrows. 'Most guys wait at least until the honeymoon's over. You sure you want to marry this chick?'

'Yeah,' Tony answered truthfully. 'I'm sure. We just haven't bought a ring yet. She, uh...' He stopped, wondering how to explain Ziva's incident in the ring shop. 'Hasn't got round to it yet,' he finished.

The driver snorted. 'You sure she wants to marry you?' he asked.

'Yeah.' Tony repeated his previous answer, seeing Ziva lying naked on top of him in his bed. 'I'm sure.'

The taxi stopped outside Tony's apartment and Tony saw the light on in his window. He paid the driver and thanked him for his conversation before hurrying up the stairs to his front door. He considered knocking but decided that it would be stupid to knock when he had a key so he opened the door and strolled in.

The first thing he saw, much to his delight, was Ziva washing the breakfast dishes up in the kitchen, topless. He chuckled and she spun around, clutching a plate to her chest. Her lower half was hidden by the counter so he crossed over to her, hoping to discover that she was fully naked. He leant over the counter and laughed. She was wearing a pair of his boxer shorts.

'Why are you wearing those?' he asked, hopping onto the work top and spinning round, leaping down on the other side. He admired her exposed breasts, fighting to prevent himself reaching out and squeezing them. They were a smooth, coffee brown, perfectly shaped and pert. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, refusing to give in to his overwhelming desires.

She shrugged, reaching up to kiss his cheek to welcome him home. 'I never finished unpacking,' she explained accusingly. 'I kept getting distracted so I found these instead.' She gave him a twirl. 'You like?'

He nodded. 'They suit you,' he commented, his resolve flailing under the immense temptation.

'We've come a long way from you refusing to finish your lunch after I took a bite,' she replied, resting her hand on his shoulder.

He grinned, agreeing with her statement, and stepped into her. Her round breasts brushed against his shirt and, when he chanced a glance downwards, he saw that her nipples were erect.

Her hand moved down his side, finding their way towards his crotch. 'You really like this outfit,' she remarked, feeling the bulge in his pants. She smiled at him and leaned up, her lips gracing his before she pulled away.

He looked down at her, disappointed by the slight contact. 'Is that all I get?' he asked, pouting.

She relented and kissed his puckered lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Finally, he allowed himself to touch her inviting breasts, cupping them in his hands and running his thumb around the hardened nipple. She pressed her body against him, trapping his hands. He pushed them out from between their bodies and ran lightly over her shoulders.

Her hand clenched around his cock and she could feel the pulse racing through them. She squeezed it, her finger tracing its head through the layers of clothes.

His fingers walked down her back, feeling every sculpted indentation, until he reached the waistband of his boxer shorts. He paused, considering slipping his hand inside, but decided against it, continuing his southwards travel until his hand was positioned under the seat of his boxers hanging so loosely around her tight butt.

He let out an amused cry, feeling the slightly damp material. 'Enjoying this?' he inquired innocently.

'Only as much as you,' she returned smoothly.

'A lot, then,' he answered his own question.

She closed her eyes, pressing their cheeks together and stopping, just feeling their closeness. He groaned, the throbbing ache in his manhood growing into an agonising pain. She noticed his discomfort and slowly began to undress him, prolonging the anticipation.

He swallowed, wincing from the unendurable pain in his groin. She knew exactly what would keep him hot and she put her knowledge to good use, making him suffer before she finally gave herself to him. The wait would be worth it though, he reassured himself. Hell, he had waited five years and he still thought that it was worth it.

His jacket was dropped to the floor, soon followed by his shirt as the agony of the wait seemed to be too much for her as well. He held his breath, the look in her eyes telling him that it was going to happen any second now. She grinned at him, relishing the greed he was unable to conceal, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

Her mouth crashed against his and she pushed him against the counter, the two bodies sinking to the floor locked in a passionate embrace. Her fingers fumbled with his fly, struggling in her haste to shed all layers of clothing keeping her from him. She yanked it down, her mouth still pressed against his, and he kicked his trousers off. Two pairs of boxers were thrown at the wall and two naked bodies were left writhing together on the cold linoleum of the kitchen.

'At least it's easy to clean,' he muttered into her mouth.

She rolled her eyes at his attempt to lighten the intense atmosphere and rolled on top him, begging him to enter her. With a happy smile plastered onto his face, he willingly complied, a yell of ecstasy erupted from her mouth.

He felt himself slip into her warm, wet core and all the pain in his cock was unleashed, a pleasured moan sliding out of his parted lips. Her hips were grinding on his abdomen, her breasts gliding across his chest. The pace was increasing and she was poised to speed up even more, her eyes wild and her loose hair flying round her face. His hands cupped her butt and he pressed her further down on him, grunting as he slipped deeper into her.

Her mouth found his and their tongues battled, fighting for control. He began to feel lightheaded, the blood rushing to his cock and his lungs empty of air. He turned his head away from her, catching short, harsh breaths. Her sticky body rubbed against his and he could feel the sweat trickling off her body onto his.

'Come, come,' she pleaded, her head thrown back and her back arched. He waited for the climax, feeling himself coming.

'I'm there,' he choked.

In reply, she let out a chilling scream. It would have been better placed in a horror film, but he understood its meaning. She had climaxed with him and felt it rushing through her.

His chest was heaving as he panted, breathless from the elongated kiss. She extracted herself from him, pushing her butt into the air. He grabbed her, stopping her from climbing off him, and pulled her back down.

Her heart was pounding and he laid a steady hand on her chest, feeling the thuds reverberate through him.

'I need you,' she whispered, her lips dry and her appetite not yet satiated.

He nodded and his hands slid down her toned stomach, stopping at its target. He felt his way into her moist folds, slipping his finger inside her. She purred appreciatively as he stroked her, his finger wet from her pleasure. He smiled, pleased that he could elicit such a strong reaction from her body, and intensified his movements.

She moaned, her teeth biting down on his lower lip. The metallic taste of blood spotted the tip of her tongue and she wiped the slight cut with her tongue. His breath caught in his chest and he closed his eyes, feeling her light weight on top of him, her tongue running across his lip. His fingers slipped out of her and a quiet whine left her lips.

She shifted her weight and rolled off him, her sweaty back shivering as it hit the cold linoleum. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him as he lay on his back, staring up the ceiling with wide eyes.

'I think that we should go out tonight,' she announced.

He opened one eye and looked at her suspiciously. 'Out where?'

'Out there,' she replied, gesturing with her hand. 'We don't want to become one of those couples who stay at home all day watching the travel channel, gazing longingly at the world outside and wishing we were part of it.' She nodded decisively. 'That's what leads to adulterous thoughts and then cheating,' she added.

Tony opened the other eye and raised himself onto his elbow as well, staring seriously at her. 'I'm not going to cheat, Ziva,' he assured her.

'I know,' she replied brightly. 'But, I still think that we should go out.' He opened his mouth to voice issues with the plan but she cut him off before he could begin. 'I know that you aren't going to cheat,' she told him gravely. 'I trust you.' He nodded, believing her. 'We should go out and have some fun,' she explained.

He nodded again and sat up, planting a kiss on her lips as he stood. Extending a hand to help her up, he led her into the bedroom, pausing to collect their clothes first.

'So,' he inquired. 'Where are we going?'

She cocked her head. 'Where would you go at this time of night?'

'To a bar,' he answered. 'Where would you go?'

'Same,' she returned. 'So, let's go to a bar.'

'Which one?' he continued, wary of a night out planned by a former assassin.

'You choose,' she allowed.

His mind immediately began to run through all the possible options, weighing them up against each other. He desperately wanted this to be the perfect date with the perfect woman. Ziva had already accomplished the second part so it was up to him to deliver on his task and he intended to do just that.

Ziva left him to his thoughts and crossed over to her unpacked boxes of clothes. 'Where have you decided?' she called over her shoulder.

'It's a secret,' he answered.

She sighed, sifting through the neatly folded clothes. 'You need to tell me something, at least, so that I know what to wear,' she explained.

'Wear something dressy, classy, sexy,' he replied, feeling a familiar throbbing threaten to resume as he pictured Ziva in her backless blue dress that she wore in Morocco. If she could reveal as much skin as that again, he was in for a wild night.

'Out the room,' she ordered, shooing him into the living room.

'Why? You are already naked,' he protested.

'Yes,' she called through the closed door. 'But, this has to be a surprise.'

He scowled petulantly and tried again. 'I need to get dressed too,' he argued.

She relented and opened the door, letting him in. 'Quickly,' she warned. 'Or I'll throw you out again.'

He flung open the wardrobe doors and brought out a tuxedo, holding it against himself in the mirror. 'What do you think?' he asked, striking a pose. 'Very James Bond?'

She chuckled at his childish antics and pushed him out the room again. 'It looks very nice,' she replied.

'Thanks,' he shouted through the closed door, beaming proudly. He pushed all fantasies of Ziva's dress aside and focused on getting dressed himself. He was just straightening his jacket when the door opened. He held his breath, waiting to see what she had prepared for him.

**An extra long chapter for you: over 2,000 words. Maybe I'll get more reviews to reward all my hard work... At the time of finishing this, I had no reviews for Chapter 10. Perhaps that will have changed. I could do with all the help I can get. If you have a specific idea for an event or chapter, let me know. I have managed to get through to the twelfth chapter but I am still on their third day of being engaged. I would like to carry this one on and develop the plot a lot, but I usually get stuck after a while and lose interest. I am determined not to let that happen to me on this one so any ideas/ help would be useful. I always credit people if I use their ideas, even just to give me inspiration. My author's notes are getting longer and longer, I think I need to shut up now.**


	13. A Strip Club?

**I watched 'Gia' right before starting this so the beginning might be a little out of character.**

Tony's mouth fell open when he saw Ziva appear in the doorway. She winked at him and posed, leaning against the doorframe and raising her hand above her head. He blinked and a nervous grin spread across her face.

Her small frame fitted perfectly in the dark green dress; it clung to her small breasts and elongated the caramel legs protruding from the tight hem. She took a step towards him and spun around, leaning back into him and laughing. She could feel his erection pressing into her leg and her hand clamped around it.

He groaned and kissed the back of her head, his lips lingering on the soft hair, his nose inhaling the scent of her perfume. 'Do we have to go out?' he murmured.

She turned around to face him and looked up at him. 'You'll get tired of sex,' she moaned, kissing the front of his shirt.

He shook his head, running his hands over her back. 'I could never get tired of sex with you,' he disagreed.

She smiled, raising her head to kiss his lips. 'Come on,' she muttered, reluctantly drawing back.

He pouted in mock disappointment and led her out of the door, pulling her by the hand.

'Where are we going?' she inquired.

'You'll see,' he teased, still holding her hand as they walked into the cold night air. 'We're going in my car,' he announced firmly. She scowled but made no objection.

The drive was short, though it seemed longer to Tony due to Ziva's persistent pestering to make him tell her where they were headed.

As soon as the car stopped, she climbed out and looked around. He joined her and guided her in the direction of a flashing neon sign.

'A strip club?' she guessed. He chuckled and shook his head. 'A cinema?' she tried. 'A brothel?'

He frowned, hurt by her suggestion. 'Why would I take you to a brothel?' he protested. 'I have never even been to a brothel.'

'I was joking, Tony,' she told him, rolling her eyes. There was a short queue outside but Tony led her straight to the doorman.

'Hey,' he greeted the burly man. 'How're you doing?'

'Great,' the man replied, bumping Tony's fist. 'You?'

Tony grinned and pushed Ziva in front of him. 'Meet my fiancée,' he introduced. Ziva smiled at the label and nodded to the doorman who gestured them through the door.

Tony ushered Ziva into a large, dark room, lit only by flashing strobe lights, and crowded with people.

'This is where you brought me for our first date?' she asked.

'Yeah,' he grinned. 'It used to be my favourite place.' He put his arm around her shoulders. 'Before you,' he added.

Her mouth curled, pleased by his words, and she took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing it lightly. He pushed his little finger into her mouth and sucked on it, looking interestedly around the club.

More people came in through the door and the contented couple were pushed out the way. Tony held Ziva close to him and they walked over to the bar. He seated himself on the only available stool and pulled her onto his lap. She laughed and perched there, resting her head on his shoulder.

'What do you want?' he asked, seeing the blonde bartender moving in their direction.

She pursed her lips, considering. 'What are you having?' she replied. 'And I'll have the same.'

'Scotch, then,' he decided, calling the hot bartender over. 'Two scotches,' he requested, his eyes focused on Ziva.

The bartender thrust her chest out and flicked her blonde hair, twirling it around her finger in an attempt to get Tony's attention, but he didn't notice her. Ziva, however, did spot the attempt and grinned to herself, twisting her upper body round to kiss Tony.

She brought them their drinks and turned away for flirt with another man. Ziva watched her go and kissed Tony again, fairly sure that she would never have to hunt for a man again. She refused to think past their fake marriage ending and had decided to just make the most of it while it lasted. With that thought in mind, she downed her drink and hopped off Tony's lap, leading him into the throng of dancing, drunk people.

He began to dance goofily, trying to make her laugh. She did and, with the grin still pasted on her face, she backed into him and bent her knees, grinding on him. Her arms reached over her head and her hips swayed, her butt rubbing against his crotch. His erection was more defined now and it was pushing forcefully into her.

He opened his mouth to sing along to the music but instead got a mouthful of her thick hair. Grunting, he took a hand off her hip to brush it away. The pain in his erection was growing with every move she made and Tony closed his eyes, reminding himself that they were in public. He had to get a hold on himself. They were getting married; he had the rest of his life to sleep with her. All he had to do now was enjoy touching her.

The song ended and she turned around, kissing him fully on the lips. She tugged him back over to the bar and ordered another two drinks.

He stared at her as she offered him a shot of vodka. 'We have to go to work tomorrow,' he reminded her. She shrugged and tipped the glass back, the strong alcohol slipping smoothly down her throat.

'Are you going to drink that?' she asked, hailing the bartender again. Tony sighed but picked the drink up, sipping it slowly. Another two shots were placed in front of them and Ziva gulped hers down straight away. He shook his head, declining the one placed in front of him, so Ziva took it instead. 'Ziva,' he hissed. 'What are you doing?'

She rolled her eyes and leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. 'You brought us here,' she accused. 'We might as well have fun.' She giggled and her hand moved down to his erection, cupping his penis in her hand. 'You are certainly having fun,' she remarked. She pushed her head into the crook of his neck and he could feel her lips pressing against his skin, kissing it sloppily. With her free hand she waved at the bartender, requesting more drinks. She pulled her head away, tipping the shots back in quick succession, before calling for more.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and climbed off her stool, manoeuvring herself onto his lap so that she was straddling him, facing him. She kissed his cheeks, her lips moving from one cheek to the other, murmuring softly. Her hands went to the hem of her short dress and she pushed it up, her dress riding up to reveal her black thong.

**Public sex in a bar might be a little too much, so don't get your hopes up. Hopefully I will do one more chapter today – because tomorrow I am off on holiday so no more updates for about two weeks.**


	14. Definitely A Strip Club

**Back from holiday! Loved the reviews you left me – they spurred me on to do another chapter. I should be revising...but whatever. The updates will be slightly slower, though, as I am already woefully behind. Almost every other chapter seems to have a sex scene so I will dull down the sex from now on but I had set this one up already. Shorter than normal since I need to push forward – they have been engaged for only a couple of days so far and this was meant to span at least a number of months.**

Tony let out a deep chuckle and focused his eyes on this enticingly skimpy piece of fabric. He beckoned the bartender and, leaning over Ziva's shoulder, ordered a large bottle of whisky.

His cheek was pressed against hers and he could feel the thin layer of sweat on her skin. He turned his head and ran his tongue up her cheek, his hand tilting her head.

A bottle of whisky was placed on the bar and he grasped it in his hand, gently pushing Ziva off his lap with the other. She giggled and had to steady herself on him to stop her falling over.

He took her hand and pulled her behind him, leading her through the mob of people, heading straight for the bathroom door. After hesitating outside the two doors, he chose the women's bathroom and pushed it open with his shoulder, both his hands being occupied.

He squinted, the bright light harsh compared to the pulsating strobes in the club. A gaggle of blonde women stood leaning against the sinks, discussing the choice of men. They didn't seem too surprised by the appearance of a man in their domain so Tony went past them and into the end cubicle, tugging Ziva in behind him.

Ziva reached behind her and pulled the door closed, locking them in together. Her hand was pressed against Tony's chest and she pushed him lightly backwards, making him thump down on the toilet seat. She slid back onto his lap and pulled the hem of her dress up over her hips, revealing the long extent of her caramel legs.

His fingers slipped under the thin strip of fabric masquerading as acceptable underwear and pinched the soft flesh. She moaned quietly and leant into him, her breasts pushed up against his chest.

She could feel his heart beating through her dress and she smiled, the repetitive pound reminding her that this was not a dream. She had been fantasising about sex with her partner for years, but now they could do it in person and in reality. She snorted mirthlessly, realising that she had her oppressive father to thank for the sex she enjoyed so much.

Tony's husky voice brought her back to the present. 'Ziva,' he whispered, his lips tickling her earlobe.

His hands tried to clutch the hem of her dress to pull it over her head, but the large bottle of whisky got in the way, colliding unceremoniously with her thigh. She gasped at the cold glass hitting her warm skin and her chest rose as she inhaled, her erect nipples showing clearly through the dark green dress.

He raised the bottle and chuckled drily, unscrewing the lid and throwing over the top of the cubicle door. It hit the ground with a chink. Tony blinked, returning Ziva's steady gaze, and brought the bottle to his lips, groaning as the warm liquid swilled around his mouth before slipping easily down his throat.

'It would just get in the way,' he explained between gulps. Ziva didn't reply; her focus was directed towards the growing erection pushing through Tony's trousers into Ziva's leg. Tony downed the last of the alcohol and shook his head violently, warding off the dizziness that clouded his mind momentarily.

Setting the bottle on the bathroom floor, his attention returned to Ziva. Her fingers had unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his boxers, freeing his erection. Her own thong was halfway down her calves and her dress was lying at his feet. She was ready and waiting impatiently for Tony to satisfy her drunken desires.

He stood up, holding Ziva steady in his arms, and pressed her up against the door of the cubicle. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, her tongue pushing through Tony's lips. The whisky was clear on his breath and she could taste it on his tongue. She didn't complain, though, for she guessed that her own mouth tasted much the same. They were both drunk, she knew that, and neither of them was used to seeing their partner out of control. It might not actually _be _a strip club but, for the future spouses, it had turned into one.

**I'm sorry; it's shorter than my usual chapters, but schoolwork calls so I have to stop. There was no actual sex but you know how that goes in this story so I'll let you imagine it yourself.**


	15. The Bloody Jaw

**I felt bad no delivering on the promise of sex in the last chapter so I am hopefully going to make it up to you. This chapter shall be sufficiently long. I am writing this with the radio commentary of the royal wedding on in the background (no idea why but I just decided to) so it might not be particularly romantic. It's just the cynic in me coming out. I think that I have exaggerated the fogginess of a hangover but I decided that I was allowed to take poetic licence with this. They did drink a lot, after all.**

One eye opened and slowly swivelled around, taking in her surroundings. Groggily, she sat up and stretched, yawning widely. A dull ache filled her head and her body was stiff and cold. She heard a grunt from behind her and the bed shifted underneath her. She leapt off the bed, her headache increasing with the sudden movement, and spun round to see what had moved.

She shook her head, slightly embarrassed by her jumpiness, as she saw that she had been lying on top of Tony. She rubbed her forehead with the sweaty palm of her hand and sighed, frowning as she tried to remember why she was in bed with Tony. She shivered and glanced down at herself, realising that she was chilly because she was completely bare. She grabbed the corner of the duvet and pulled it off the bed, wrapping it hastily around herself.

Feeling the sudden rush of air on his warm body, Tony squirmed to get comfortable and woke up. He groaned gutturally and propped himself up on his elbows, staring placidly at his partner. His head hurt and he was unbearably tired still. He had a feeling that he had had things other than sleep on his mind the night before, judging by Ziva's wardrobe choice.

Her mind was a haze of confusion and she struggled to make sense of the situation. She was naked, in bed with her partner, she had obviously drunk too much the night before, yet Tony seemed oblivious to the strangeness of the sleeping arrangements. She shook her head, desperate to clear the fog. Her tangled hair whipped around her face and her head throbbed.

Glancing round the room, she recognised Tony's bedroom but she also noticed her own alarm clock on one side of the bed and it was her duvet covering her naked body. Her shoulders slumped as the events of the previous two weeks came flooding back to her. She and Tony were getting married so they were living together. She laughed at her own stupidity and slid onto the bed, keeping the duvet firmly held up around her chest.

'We're engaged,' she remarked smoothly.

He snorted and reached out to pull her warm body into him. 'Yes, we are,' he replied.

She smiled to herself, relaxing her tense muscles in his strong, protective arms. She closed her eyes and settled down, ignoring the responsible part of her mind telling her to rouse herself and go to work.

_Her back was pressed up against the hard, plastic wall of the cubicle, with his soft body pushing into her front. He cupped her chin and tilted it up, forcing his lips onto hers. Her nails were clawing at his back, fumbling as she tried to wrench his shirt off him and free his toned body. Her thick hair spilled over his shoulder as she moved her chin to rest on his shoulder while she refuelled on air. Tony's kisses were sloppy and long, his hands were roaming increasingly further south._

Ziva swallowed as a snapshot of the previous night in the club bathroom edged its way through the mist clouding her memory. She shivered and nestled closer into Tony, turning her face up to look at him. Her eyes widened in concern as she saw that his mouth was red with blood.

'Tony, you're hurt,' she cried, tilting his head back to get a better look.

He tried to open his mouth but her strong grip was clamping it shut. 'Mmmnnurf,' he mumbled through a closed mouth. She pulled her hands away and let him speak. 'It doesn't hurt,' he reassured her, opening and closing his mouth, testing it out to check that it was fine.

'It isn't bleeding anymore,' she admitted. 'Do you remember how it happened?' she added, frowning in displeasure at the scarcity of any real memory of the night before.

He shook his head. 'I don't remember much at all.'

'Me neither,' she sighed, leaning back on his chest.

They lay there in peaceful silence, both trying to push through the fog in their minds to remember what happened the night before.

_She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed the back of his calf with her foot. His ear was in her mouth and she was nipping it with her teeth. Her foot collided with the empty whisky bottle and there was a quiet chinking as it hit the floor and rolled under the door. Moaning, he pulled her closer, holding her against him with his arms. His erection was pressed against her abdomen and she ran her tongue over her lips, hungry for him._

Blushing at the graphic flashback, his deep voice brought her back to the present. 'I guess we should get up,' he said, his chest vibrating under her ear as he spoke.

She nodded reluctantly and pushed herself up using his chest to leverage. Once she was sitting up, she held him down using her hands and her fingers fiddled with his dark chest hair.

'You told me that I should shave that once,' he reminisced.

She smiled and shrugged. 'It grew on me,' she admitted.

He chuckled at her unfortunate phrasing and caught her fragile wrist in his hands, gently moving them off his chest, allowing him to sit up. He leaned in to kiss her but she ducked away, jumping lightly from the bed, shaking her head.

'I don't –' she muttered, more to herself than him. 'I don't think –'

Suddenly, her hands flew to her stomach and, dropping the duvet to the floor, she lurched into the bathroom. Tony climbed off the bed, alarmed and made to follow her, but the bathroom door was slammed in his face. Through the door he could hear her retching and he bit his lip in sympathy. They had both drunk too much but he was more used to alcohol fuelled nights, she had never had a wild college life.

He grimaced ruefully, remembering past antics, done in the semi-conscious awareness that comes with a fraternity night out. Perhaps it was better that she had never gone through a heavy drinking phase. He leaned against the door and waited for Ziva to unlock it and let him in.

_She was light, like a small child, so he was able to lift her up easily. Her legs opened and she straddled him against the flimsy wall, her feet locked together behind his back. All clothes had been discarded and he could feel every small hair on her back and every movement of her muscles beneath her taut skin. They were as close now as they could ever be. Her tongue slipped into his ear and ran around the inside. He grinned to himself and tightened his grip on her butt, pulling her closer. His erection was burning now, he had to get inside her and relieve his throbbing passion._

He could hear the gush of water streaming from the taps. He hoped that that meant that Ziva was alright now but, knowing her, it could just as easily be to cover the retching sounds. He knocked lightly on the door and waited for an answer. He wasn't expecting one but he still felt a little twinge of disappointment when the door remained locked.

He listened carefully, trying to make out another sound, but the noise of the water masked everything else. He sighed, dismayed by his slow reaction when she had dashed into the bathroom. He should be in there, holding back her hair or...

He screwed up his face in consternation, realising that he had no clue what chivalrous gentlemen would do when their girlfriend was ill. He had never been in that position until now, when it was his partner behind the closed door. He shook his head at his confusion about his true feelings for Ziva. He had been hiding them from her for so long, that he had ended up burying them so deep that even he didn't know what they were.

Smiling, he realised that that particular barrier had been let down slightly by both of them. Now that they had a legitimate excuse to be together, properly be together, they had wasted no time in making the most of it.

_He thrust in and out, his back banging noisily against the plastic partition between the toilet cubicles. There was a murmur of chatter from the sinks of the bathroom, but no one seemed too concerned with any antics taking place so close to them. In his inebriated state, Tony didn't care about the public setting. He didn't think that Ziva was worrying about that either. All he wanted was his body to be inside his, to satisfy the dangerously painful longing for her touch._

Tony left the door and walked slowly over to the wardrobe, gathering up the crumpled clothes from the night before and throwing them into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. He flung the wardrobe doors open and sifted through the shirts, selecting a jolly Hawaiian one. He was not considering dressing appropriately for work; all he wanted was to be decent and cheering for when he was finally granted entry to the bathroom. He pulled the shirt on, turning to face the bathroom door as he fiddled with the buttons.

He took the rest of his chosen outfit from the wardrobe and crossed back to the door, dropping them in a pile on the carpet. He dressed hurriedly, listening to the steady rush of water in the sink. Shrugging on his suit jacket, he leant back against the door and began to tap his foot.

_Her legs were sticky from sweat as they clamped around his waist. She ran her tongue over his dry lips, leaving his sore, pock-marked neck alone. He had a faint reservation about the physical marks that would still be visible the next day at work. But another kiss from her pushed all rational thought aside and he was once more caught up in the heated moment._

The tap was turned off and Tony stood up straight, taking his weight off the door so, if Ziva did open it, he wouldn't fall on top of her. He heard the toilet flush and the lid close, but not the click of the lock.

'Ziva,' he called tentatively.

He heard her heave a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could hug her and comfort her.

'Yes,' she replied quietly.

'Let me in,' he requested.

There was a pause but the lock slid back and Tony pushed the door open, slipping quickly inside. Ziva was perched on the side of the bath, her back hunched over, a glass of half-drunk water clasped in her hand. He moved over to her and sat beside her, putting his arm around her bare shoulders. Warmed by his arm, the goose bumps on her coffee-brown skin disappeared and she stopped shivering.

_Their bodies were tangled together as he pumped rhythmically in and out. He was muttering in her ear, begging her to 'come on', repeating her name over and over until it sounded like a ceremonial mantra. They were cannibals dancing round the fire, the music thumping in their ears, oblivious to the rest of the world's disapproval, ignoring the immorality of their actions. Ziva had thought that she had left unconventional settings for sex behind her when she moved to America, but Tony had broken down any misconceptions she was harbouring about his country. He had gradually wormed his way into her inner sanctum and he was not planning on giving up the prized position in her life any time soon. Her kisses intensified as she realised that she didn't want him to leave her anyway._

She heard a murmur in the background and blinked, tuning in to what Tony was saying. '...ok?' was all she caught.

'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'I missed the first bit.'

He squeezed her shoulders and chuckled. 'Well,' he admitted. 'First I was mostly just ranting about how worried I was.' He looked down at her with a genuine look of concern. 'Are you ok?' he repeated the last part of his monologue. Realising that she was still naked, he draped his jacket over her shoulders.

She nodded, pulling the front of the jacket together in an attempt to keep as warm as possible. 'I'm fine,' she promised. 'I just had too much to drink.' Her voice was apologetic, as if she was to blame for being ill, weak as she saw it.

He accepted her assurances and kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering just a little longer than they needed to.

_His mouth opened in a moan as he felt himself coming for the second time. Words tumbled out of his mouth in a fiery mess. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and animated. She nodded, wordlessly telling him that she was coming too. It was probably best that she didn't speak, since there was no place for a conversation in the rapid succession of thrusts and orgasms. Her back arched as she peaked, her head jerking upwards and colliding with the underside of Tony's jaw. He grunted in pain but didn't let go of her body. His mouth was filled with blood and some of it dripped down his chin, leaving yet another reminder of the night's passion._

Chuckling, he considered imparting the real cause of his bloody jaw to her but, since he hadn't shared any of his other memories of the drunken sex, he decided against it. Instead, he stared at her, still concerned despite her assurances.

'Are you sure that you're ok?' he pressed.

'Yes,' she sighed, slightly annoyed by his persistence. 'It's a normal part of a hangover, yes?'

'Yes,' he accepted. 'I just –'

'You just worry too much,' she concluded for him. 'I'm fine,' she insisted firmly, trying to leave no room for anymore discussion.

She rested her aching head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, dragged down by an overwhelming exhaustion. Hangovers had never been a regular feature of her life and, now that she getting married and settling down, for however short a time; she didn't expect that they would ever be. She smiled pleasantly and sighed.

_She heard him grunt but ignored the sound, all her attention taken up by the sensation he was giving her. He pulled out of her and he sank back against the wall, her arms lax around her waist. Her feet hit the floor and she steadied herself on his shoulder, panting and gasping for air after the strenuous exertion. On the other side of the thin, plastic wall, in the next toilet cubicle, they could hear other people's grunts and moans as they writhed in each other's arms. Ziva grimaced and picked her clothes off the floor, dressing clumsily. Tony copied her and soon they were stumbling out of the cubicle, hand in hand, heading for the bar._

'We should go to work,' she decided, noticing that he was not dressed for the office.

'Are you sure that is a good idea?' he queried.

'Yes, I'm sure. I just have a slight hangover, I'm not sick.'

He shrugged and stood up, holding out his hand to help her into the bedroom. 'What do you want for breakfast?' he asked, moving towards the door.

'You can't go to work in that,' she protested. 'You have to change.'

She chewed on her lip, mulling this question over seriously. 'Cereal,' she decided emphatically.

'Cereal? I thought you liked my cooked breakfasts?' he inquired.

She laughed. 'I do,' she replied, sitting with her legs crossed on the edge of the bed. 'But I don't think that I'm quite up to a cooked breakfast.' He smiled, his eyes soft, and moved over to sit beside her. She looked very elegant with her legs crossed, dressed only in his suit jacket. He kissed her nose affectionately before standing up and leaving her to get dressed properly.

Ziva watched him go before busying herself with finding her clothes. She still had not fully unpacked and she made a note to complete this task before the end of the day. That would make her moved-in status official.

**I hope this makes up for the not so good previous chapter – it was longer than usual and finished off the sex from the previous chapter.**


	16. Here's Daddy

His arm was draped around her neck, her thigh pressed between his. His little finger stretched out and wound a curl around itself. A small smile played about her lips, a sparkle dancing in her eyes with a subtlety that might easily have gone unnoticed if he hadn't been staring into her fused brown eyes with a passion that was flaming inside him. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Her eyes closed and she stood motionless, peaceful with their relationship.

'Agent DiNozzo, Agent David.'

'Director,' Tony acknowledged, turning slightly to find that Vance was standing directly behind them.

Vance stepped sideways to stand beside, the three facing the large screen in MTAC. The man at the computer against the wall grunted in surprise as the screen leapt to life, projecting the formidable image of Eli David into the room.

'Eli,' Vance greeted, not particularly warmly.

'Leon,' Eli replied, just as coldly. 'Ziva,' he added, glancing at his daughter. Ziva nodded in response, unsure how their relationship stood. They had parted on good terms after his trip to America but, most recently, he had initiated the process to get Ziva returned to her position as a Mossad Officer without her consent. 'Agent DiNozzo.' Eli concluded the formalities curtly, not giving Tony a chance to return the greeting. He seemed slightly bemused by Tony's presence but only Ziva picked up on this.

Vance brought Eli's attention back to him. 'Good to hear from you again, Eli.'

'You have been phoning me a lot recently, Leon. I thought I'd return the favour.' Eli turned to his daughter, his face passive. 'I hear you are engaged, Ziva.'

'Yes,' Ziva agreed shortly.

'Would I approve?' His voice was calm but the undertones contained a menace which did not go unnoticed by his future son-in-law.

Ziva considered shrugging but, knowing her father well, she decided against it. 'I do not know.'

Eli did not press further but waited for her to volunteer the information. She stared at the top corner of the screen, avoiding his eyes. Intimidation was more difficult when he was two-dimensional.

It was Tony who tired of the silence first. 'I am going to marry her,' he announced confidently. 'Do you approve?' he added lightly, testing the waters with his toe before diving in headfirst.

'Him?' Even Eli could not hide his surprise.

Ziva instinctively pressed closer into Tony's body, her hand finding his. 'Yes.'

Eli snorted, a cross between a chuckle and a grimace. He seemed amused, at any rate, which was good, Ziva thought doubtfully.

'He is not Jewish,' Eli remarked drily.

'No,' Ziva answered quickly.

'You cannot marry in a Jewish wedding.' Eli's eyes had grown cold and Ziva automatically opened her mouth to pacify her father, before swallowing the words before birth.

She glanced at Tony, seeking reassurance. He nodded and she smiled, turning back to her father. 'That does not matter. I love him.' She paused, eyeing her father warily. 'You are invited, of course.'

Eli nodded. 'I will come.' His eyes did not leave his daughter's face when he added, 'Can I have a moment alone with my daughter, please?'

Vance nodded and walked towards the door. Tony hesitated; reluctant to leave Ziva alone, but she nudged him, her eyes promising that she would be fine.

'Father,' she said when the door had shut behind Tony.

'Is this real, Ziva?' he demanded, wasting no time with small talk.

'Yes,' she replied evenly. 'I love him.'

'I don't doubt that. But is this marriage real?'

Ziva stared at him, shocked by what he had said. Hastily, she regained her composure and looked him straight in the eye. 'Of course. Why wouldn't it be?'

'A marriage would legitimise your American citizenship and keep you at NCIS.'

Ziva's chest constricted. 'My citizenship is legitimate whatever you say,' she replied, struggling to keep herself from snapping.

Eli shook his head. 'No, Ziva, it isn't. You need to marry to stay in America. Tony was handy, he agreed. But that isn't what you want.'

'Why did you not tell me that you didn't accept my resignation?' she asked, her restraints falling slightly. Director David did not answer and Ziva's eyes flashed in anger at his insolence. 'You couldn't let me go,' she snarled. 'I finally found somewhere I was happy but you couldn't let go. I don't want to work for Mossad anymore; I don't want to be a pawn in your political game. But what _I _want doesn't matter, it never mattered to you.'

'What do you want, Ziva?' her father asked calmly.

Ziva did not hesitate before answering. 'I want to settle down, find somewhere permanent. I want to make a home for myself and be able to feel safe there. I want to marry Tony and...' She paused, her chest lifting defiantly. 'I want my children to grow up without knowing how to shoot, how to kill. I want them to ride bicycles and beg me for ice creams and run around the park dressed as movie characters.'

She smiled slightly, seeing Tony running around with his children acting out scenes from films they had spent the afternoon watching. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, her smile faded, remembering that she would not be there when Tony was playing with his children, because she would not be their mother. She would be their father's ex-wife, co-worker, friend, but not their mother.

'These are admirable desires,' Eli agreed smoothly. 'But not realistic. Even at NCIS, you carry a gun. So does Tony. There will always be danger and death in your life wherever you are. Stop running from it, Ziva, and face it.'

Ziva sighed and tossed her hair out of her face. 'I'm marrying Tony, Aba. I want you to be there, but if you don't come, then...'

'I will be there,' he told her curtly, before the screen went blank.

Ziva stared at the wall for a moment, her chest heaving and her eyes glassy. Then, she spun round and strode out of the door.

Tony was waiting for her outside, leaning nonchalantly against the pumpkin coloured wall. As she appeared, he pushed himself upright with his foot and stepped out to meet her.

'What happened?'

Ziva stopped and met his gaze steadily. 'He asked if this was a ploy to keep me in America.'

Tony stared at her, aghast. 'He knows?'

'You can't fool him, Tony. He got to be the Director of Mossad for a reason.'

'What did you say?'

'I told him that I loved you, and that this marriage was not fake.' She frowned, her face crinkling. 'He believed the first part but not the second.'

Tony let out a low whistle. 'He believes that you love me?'

'Yes.' She glanced down at the bullpen. 'Can we go back to work now?' she asked.

Tony shook his head. 'No. Vance wants to see us.'

Ziva groaned. 'All I want to do is get through the day so that I can go home,' she moaned.

'Head still hurting?'

'Yes,' Ziva nodded ruefully. 'I am never going out with you on a school night again.'

Tony chuckled. 'It was your idea.' He turned round, still grinning, and started to walk towards Vance's office. 'The quicker we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.' Ziva accepted this argument and hurried after him.

'Come in,' Vance called, hearing their knock. Tony pushed open the door and they sidled in, lining themselves up in front of the desk, as if they were on trial. 'How did your father take it?' he asked Ziva, the hint of a smile playing about his thin lips.

Ziva shrugged, feeling more relaxed in front of Vance than before her own father. 'He's coming to the wedding so...'

'He's coming?' Tony asked, forcing the wail out of his voice.

'Yes,' Ziva clarified curtly. Tony groaned again.

Vance ignored this display and addressed Ziva once more. 'I think that you had better hurry up and organise this wedding. As realistic as possible,' he added. 'Your father cannot see this as a rush job.' His voice softened and he slouched slightly, instantly becoming less authoritative. 'He knows you, Ziva. He knows what you would want. Make sure that he sees that you want this wedding.' His eyes flickered over to Tony. 'Don't leave the organising up to Agent DiNozzo.'

Tony looked up, taken aback by this veiled jibe. He didn't even know that Vance had been paying enough attention to be able to joke about them.

'Give yourselves enough time to prepare but don't waste time. Eli will get impatient and we need this finalised before he can push all the paperwork with US Immigration through.'

Ziva nodded. 'I understand,' she replied crisply, turning on her heel. Tony followed her out.

'So, what do you want for this wedding?' he asked, eyeing her curiously.

She shrugged. 'You aren't Jewish so it can't be a Jewish wedding,' she replied, not directly answering the question. She looked at him. 'Do you have any strong beliefs or traditions?'

He shook his head. 'My father has got married quite a few times and...'

Ziva interrupted him, her eyes sparkling. 'Your father will be coming, won't he?'

Tony sighed, seeing his father stealing the limelight already. 'Yes,' he answered resignedly.

Ziva sensed his dismay and squeezed his arm. 'You will be the only man in my eyes that day,' she assured him, making her words theatrically soppy.

He frowned and stared at her in disbelief. 'Did you really just say that?'

She laughed. 'I was kidding, Tony. Trust me.'

'I do.'


	17. We're Not A Gay Couple

**Thanks to Liat1989 for the research for this chapter. I would have been completely in the dark without it.**

'Are you home?' Tony called through the door, fumbling with his keys in the lock. 'Ziva?'

Ziva abandoned the towel she had wrapped round herself for warmth after her shower and hurried over to open the door.

Tony took beamed at her before a look of hungry lust settled on his charming face. 'Wow,' he breathed. 'You...'

He grinned, stopping his sentence before it could run away with him, and allowed himself to be tugged over the threshold.

'So,' he began, pulling her moist body into his and enveloping her in a hug. 'What are we doing today?'

She smiled secretively and placed a finger on her lips, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

'Awww, go on,' he begged. 'Please tell me.'

She laughed. 'Just the usual,' she admitted.

'Oh.' He sounded slightly crestfallen at the anticlimax but then he frowned and smiled, remembering what the usual was. 'Oh,' he repeated brightly.

She laughed again, the tinkling giggle that echoed around the room. He grinned back and this time he took the lead, taking her hand and pulling her into the bedroom.

She flopped down on the bed, staring at him as he undressed in the open doorway, throwing his trousers in the general direction of the wardrobe.

'You're cleaning that away,' she remarked.

He shrugged noncommittally. 'It's tidier than flinging them around the room,' he defended.

She nodded and lay back, her brown eyes focused on the ceiling. 'So, how did it go at the civil partnership office?' she asked conversationally.

'I didn't go to the Civil Partnership Office, Ziva.'

Ziva's eyes widened angrily. 'Why not, Tony? We can't waste any more time, you know that. Vance, my father,_ I_ need to get this done quickly.'

Tony unbuttoned his shirt calmly. 'Because, Ziva, we are not a gay couple.' Ziva frowned, and Tony smiled at the dimple that appeared whenever she was deep in thought, trying to unravel something. 'I went to the Civil Marriages Office or Registry Office, as some people call it.'

Ziva rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. 'Well, how did that go?'

He stepped out of his blue boxers and lifted his leg onto the bed to pull his socks off. 'Fine,' he replied shortly.

She frowned and sat up. 'What do you mean, "fine"?'

He sighed and dropped his socks onto the floor. 'I mean that it was nothing special.'

She did not accept this answer and continued to press him, though she lay back down, not seeing any cause for undue alarm on his face. 'But what happened?'

'It all seemed so…' He screwed up his face as he searched for the right word. '…normal.'

'Normal?' Ziva repeated slowly.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and played with her feet thoughtlessly. 'It wasn't what I imagined,' he admitted ashamedly.

Ziva sighed and pulled her feet away, sitting up to face him properly. 'What did you imagine your wedding would be like?'

'I thought it would be all…' He waved his hands around to demonstrate his meaning. '…big, and white, with all my family and friends nearby.' His eyes softened and he paused, considering his fiancée. 'I thought that was what girls wanted.'

Ziva's body slumped slightly, such a small movement that unless someone was watching as carefully as Tony, they would have missed it. 'I do want that,' she revealed quietly. 'But it isn't possible.'

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled.

She laughed. 'It isn't your fault that you are not Jewish, Tony, just like it is not my fault that I am not Christian and willing to get married in a church. We need to accept that we cannot have the wedding we want.'

'But…'He stopped, unsure whether he should emphasise the point that this might not be her only wedding anyway. The marriage was only _supposed _to be temporary, after all.

'I know,' she replied quickly, not wanting Tony to voice the rest of that sentence. They had not discussed the inevitable divorce once Mossad stopped watching her.

'You don't mind?' She frowned, unsure what he was referring to. 'About the non-Jewish wedding, I mean,' he added quickly.

She smiled. 'No,' she assured him. 'I would rather marry you than any random Jewish boy.'

He grinned back, determined not to read too much into her words. He dared not think that this was her indirect way of telling him that she had completely forgotten about her past misadventures with Mossad lovers, that she only wanted him and she never thought about the past wistfully.

'Good to know,' he replied cheerily. 'That's always what a future husband wants to hear.'

'I mean it,' she told him strongly.

'I know.'

They sat next to each in peaceful silence, their thoughts idle but contented.

'My father won't be happy,' she remarked at length, bringing the conversation back to its original subject.

'Do you mind what your father thinks?' Tony asked softly.

Ziva shook her head vehemently. 'No.'

'Good.' Tony grinned at his bride-to-be. 'Then, it's settled? We'll have a civil marriage?'

'That's our only option.'

Tony's eyes gleamed and he pulled Ziva into him, kissing her chastely on the lips. 'We're going to get married,' he whispered.

Ziva nodded. 'Yes we are,' she agreed. Tony let out a guffaw of laughter. Ziva frowned. 'What?'

Tony gestured at their naked bodies. 'We come in to have sex and we end up talking about your father.'

'He is the reason that we are living together in the first place,' she reminded him, aware of the irony.

'I must thank him next time he's in town.' Tony leant over and kissed Ziva again.

'That'll be at the wedding,' she reminded him.

Tony chuckled. 'Will he be walking you down the aisle?'

Ziva gave him a look. 'Yes,' she replied evenly. 'Of course he will.'

'Not Gibbs?' Tony joked.

Ziva rolled her eyes. 'We could always get married at NCIS,' she noted after a pause.

Tony stiffened. 'What a horrible thought,' he said, shuddering.

'Why?' Ziva queried curiously. 'I mean,' she corrected, seeing Tony's look of disdain at the question. 'Obviously it is a bad idea, but why is it so terrible?' She cocked her head thoughtfully. 'We do practically live there, so…'

'Vance would be there,' Tony declared emphatically.

Ziva snorted. 'That explains your disgust,' she accepted.

'You are right, though,' Tony mused. 'We don't have to get married at the Registry Offices. We could go somewhere exotic,' he enthused, gathering momentum as his excitement built up. 'Like Hawaii, or Mexico, or…'

Ziva interrupted him. 'You told me that you weren't going to get carried away.'

Tony blushed slightly. 'It was just an idea.'

She considered the idea, giving it serious thought. 'You spent a while in Mexico,' she remembered. 'After Vance split the team up, you stayed in Mexico while you waited for the ship to set sail.'

'It didn't have sails.'

Ziva flapped her hands at him, irritated by his pernickety corrections. 'Whatever.'

Tony frowned, realising that he had missed the point of her bringing up those uncomfortable months. 'Why are we discussing this?'

'Because you don't like Mexico,' she reminded him. 'Why would you want to get married there?'

Tony accepted that she had a point. 'Hawaii, then. I have nothing against Hawaii.'

'You do against the heat,' Ziva argued. 'You hated it when we went to Arizona, or Alabama, or somewhere on that case.'

'Hawaii's different,' Tony protested. 'I love Hawaii.'

Ziva bit her lip, determined to dissuade him of the idea. Getting married surrounded by hot girls in bikinis was not her envisage of paradise. Though, she did have to admit, Tony had grown up in the past few years, so she did not have to worry about his wandering attention. Still, though…Her father would most definitely not approve. He already disliked the match; there was no need to intensify his dislike of Tony.

She relayed this though to Tony and he agreed reluctantly, that Eli David would probably not be thrilled by the prospect of his only surviving child marrying an American – who, incidentally, had killed one of his agents – at a tourist resort surrounded by scantily clad girls.

'So, I guess we're left with Washington,' Tony said resignedly.

'We don't have to do it at the Civil...whatever Offices,' she consoled him. 'We'll find somewhere more exotic.'

He nodded. 'So,' he asked, his eyes brightening. 'Can we have sex now?'


	18. I Make You Wet, Huh?

**I am hoping to regain my previous rhythm of regular updates. Sorry that the last few have been slightly slow in coming.**

She pulled him to lie flat on the bed, hopping up and rubbing his back soothingly. She murmured in his ear before gently licking it, coaxing him to participate. He took the bait and rolled over, pulling her with him so that she was on top.

Her legs entwined with his, their hands clutching frantically at each others bodies, their mouths nipping at skin, and their groins pressed together: they fitted perfectly.

She kissed him ardently, her lips sucking at his. He ran his hands across her petite shoulders before lowering them to cup her breasts, his mouth following suit. He flicked her nipples with his tongue and traced around them, leaving her mouth free to utter cries of exultation.

Her back arched and her head was pressed against the headboard. The bed moaned softly to complain but there was no worry of it collapsing under them. Her toes splayed and her mouth opened, a silent scream forming on her lips.

His face moved back up, his green eyes staring into her brown orbs, searching for meaning in the sex. Finding an answer, he pushed inside her, gently entering her body, his hands flailing above his head, clutching at the sheets. She flipped him over and sat up, riding him slowly, their pelvises grinding together.

The orgasm came later than usual, requiring more effort than they had needed before. Nevertheless, when it did come, it was definitely worth waiting for. She flung her head back, her mouth opened as wide as it could go. Her tongue curled inside her mouth, choking the yell which threatened to disturb all his neighbours. Every muscle in her toned body tensed and she froze, breathlessly waiting to come down.

He watched her exhale, slowly letting out the breath she had been holding in for the duration of her climax. A grin spread across his face, baring his teeth.

He lay flat on his back, underneath her, and gazed up at her. She returned the stare, her eyes reflecting the soft, bright light. He was breathing heavily, the passion overwhelming him. She was more composed, used to much more violent sex but enjoying the gentle caresses just as much.

She grinned boyishly and kissed his cheek, her teeth grazing his skin seductively. He groaned, feeling the familiar twitch at his groin, an impending erection. The rest of his body was exhausted but his hunger for Ziva was never going to let him get through the day without some kind of stimulation. At least the exercise would keep him in shape so that she never failed to be turned on by him in return, he assured himself.

She knelt, one leg on either side of him, and bent over to kiss him once more before climbing off the bed. He sat up and watched her disappear into the bathroom, her round, tight ass hidden behind the closed door. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pulled his boxers on and went out to the kitchen.

He heard the shower running and walked over to the tap, turning on the hot water. The water pipes in his apartment were dodgy, so that if the shower was running with hot water, no hot water was available to any of the other taps. If the shower was running cold, the hot water would still come out of the taps. He stuck his hand under the water and grinned, pulling his hand quickly away from the blast of hot water.

He reached up to get the jar of instant coffee granules from the cupboard. He unscrewed the lid and scowled at the scatter of brown grains on the glass bottom. However much milk and sugar he topped it up with, there would not be enough for even one cup.

Ziva rubbed her hair dry with a towel before twisting it up onto the top of her head. Another towel was wrapped around her body as she walked into the kitchen to find Tony. She sat down on the sofa next to him and shuffled closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

'You dry?' he asked.

She grinned and looked up at him. 'Drier than I was before I got into the shower.'

Tony frowned, taking a second to work out what she had meant. 'I made you wet, huh?'

She bit her lip, swallowing her smile, and changed the subject. 'Did you make coffee?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'There was none left.'

She smiled and reached up to remove the towel from her hair. 'We have become too much like Gibbs, drinking too much coffee all the time.'

Tony frowned, reminded of Gibbs and his fatal way with marriages. At some point, his thrice divorced boss must have been desperately in love with each of his wives before it turned sour. He looked down at his own fiancée. She still had the power to enchant him but how long would that last? Sensing his gaze, she smiled at him, licking her lips and waggling her eyebrows. He smiled back and all doubts about their future were instantly forgotten.

'You want to go out and get some coffee?' he suggested.

She nodded. 'We can drive around DC and look for places to get married,' she added.

Narrowing his eyes, Tony regarded her shrewdly for a second. 'You are very excited about getting married, aren't you?'

She snorted. 'I am excited to become an American citizen for a second time,' she corrected.

He didn't reply to her claim but stood up. 'Shall we go for coffee, then?'

She nodded, hurrying into the bedroom. 'Wait a sec,' she called, hastily dressing.

He waited patiently for her to come out, fiddling with his hair in the mirror. She joined him and they stood side by side, fixing their appearance. Before long, Tony's attention had wandered over to her reflection, watching her straighten her lapel and smooth down her glossy hair. She noticed his gaze and turned away, pushing him gently towards the door.

'We need to work on your manners,' she said, locking the door behind them with her own key.

'What did I do?' he protested, starting off down the stairs.

She jogged after him. 'You were staring again.'

'Yeah,' he agreed, 'at myself.'

She rolled her eyes and leapt down the last two steps. 'Whatever makes you sleep better at night, Tony.'

'You would make me sleep better at night,' he told her, grinning at the perfect opening, 'if you didn't insist on wearing pyjamas.'

She groaned, kicking herself for giving him the opportunity to bring this up again. 'You wear boxers to bed, I don't see why I should sleep naked,' she argued.

'Because,' he explained. 'I would appreciate it.'

She smiled. 'I shall think about it, Tony,' she allowed. 'Show me that you deserve it.'

**I am hoping to regain my previous rhythm of regular updates. Sorry that the last few have been slightly slow in coming.**


	19. Room 1022

**I promised you another today and look what you got...**

Tony slipped into the car, handing both cups of takeaway coffee to Ziva.

'So,' he asked. 'Where do you want to go? Where would be the best place to look?'

She considered his question. 'Down here, I guess,' she said, pointing down the busy road they were on.

Tony nodded and started the car, driving into the steady, slow flow of traffic. He glanced at his cup of coffee, still in Ziva's hands. She was sipping from her own cup and she looked contented.

'Good?' he inquired, nodding at the coffee.

'Yeah.' She frowned, wondering how Tony was going to drink his before it cooled. Her eyes lit up as she stumbled on a solution. 'I'll feed you,' she told him.

'What?' Tony exclaimed.

Ziva ignored his protests and lifted the cup to his mouth, tilting it slightly. It only took a few seconds for Tony to be spluttering. She pulled the cup away and waited for him to recover.

'I'll do it slowly,' she reassured him.

He rolled his eyes but opened his mouth, letting her put the cup to his lips again. Progress was slow but finally Tony's cup was empty. They shared a triumphant smile before Ziva realised that her cup was still almost full. She took a sip and screwed up her face in disgust as the cold liquid dripped down her throat.

Tony turned down a side road and parked on the pavement, climbing out of the car, gesturing for Ziva to stay put. She peered out of the window, trying to see where he went, but he disappeared round the corner before doing anything of interest.

When he returned, his hands were behind his back. He got back into the car and held out his hands, holding a large bouquet of flowers and a cup of takeaway coffee.

'Thank you,' she murmured, taking both offerings. She rested the coffee on the dashboard and raised the flowers to her nose, sniffing them. 'They're lovely.'

Tony pouted. 'You can't come up with a better word?'

Ziva thought for a moment. 'They're fantastic,' she amended.

'You're welcome,' he grinned, satisfied with his gentlemanly act.

He started the car and drove off, cruising once more down the busy road.

Tony hunched over the steering wheel, staring at the buildings that were coming up. 'A hotel?' he suggested.

Ziva cocked her head. 'Which one did you have in mind?'

Tony shrugged, although a plan was forming in his mind.

They drove round the city for a while longer, making jokes and talking about nothing in particular, but they didn't have any bright ideas about their wedding. To be honest, by the end of the drive, they had almost completely forgotten about the reason for the directionless journey.

'Do you want to go out on a date?' Tony offered.

'And do what?'

'Candlelit dinner, walk by the Seine, moonlight kiss atop the Eiffel Tower,' he proposed dreamily.

She laughed and leant over, clutching his arm. 'Dinner and a movie?'

Tony pulled a face, grinning. Then his face became serious. 'Can you make the reservations? I have something I have to do.'

She frowned but nodded. 'Did you have anywhere special in mind?'

'Surprise me.' He kissed her cheek and stopped outside his, no, their, apartment to let her out. He waited until she had opened the front door and turned to wave before driving off.

Ziva watched him go, her forehead furrowed in thought, wondering where he could be going. Only when he had turned the corner and vanished from her sight, did she go inside and hurry up the stairs to their apartment.

She headed straight for the bedroom, where she stripped off her clothes, before walking out into the living room. She turned on the spot, looking for the Yellow Pages. She unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor, before closing the curtains and beginning her hunt in just her knickers.

Tony might have claimed that he had tidied up before she moved in, but either he had not done a very extensive spring clean or she had been a bad influence on him in the short two weeks that she had been living there for the apartment was topsy-turvy. She finally found the Yellow Pages underneath the sofa cushions, residing with a couple of DVD cases.

She flicked through it, searching for the restaurant which Tony had taken her to during her first month at NCIS when he had broken up with his married girlfriend. 'Valentino's, Valentino's,' she muttered. 'Aha!' She stabbed her finger at the number, her free hand feeling for the phone.

'Hello...Yes, I'd like to make a reservation...For tonight...I know that you're busy, but...No, I understand, but...' She sat up straight, determined to make the reservation. 'Look, I _need _a table for tonight, whenever is most convenient, but I must have one...You aren't understanding me, there is no room for negotiation...Put me on to your manager,' she ordered finally, not wanting to end up threatening an innocent receptionist.

Five minutes later, Ziva put the phone down, looking decidedly pleased with herself.

Tony swept into the underground car park of a large hotel, feeling rather cheap in his dark blue sedan surrounded by Maybachs, Rolls-Royces, Bentleys and Porsches. He parked and climbed out, striding purposefully towards the glass doors, glad of his tailored suit and Italian shoes.

He approached the desk confidently, acting as if he owned the place. 'Do you do weddings?' he asked, drumming his fingers on the desk, giving the impression that he was in a rush and already impatient.

The receptionist eyed him warily but nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

'Have you renumbered the rooms in the past six years?' he inquired, talking fast and loudly.

She shook her head, frowning at the odd question. 'No, sir.'

'Room 1022,' he told her. 'Is anyone staying there now?'

She tapped away at her keyboard before looking up. 'No, sir.'

Tony hid his relief. 'If I come back in, say, half an hour, could I show my fiancée that room?'

She tucked her stray hair behind her ear. 'Yes, sir.'

'And book it for tonight?'

She thought for a moment before nodding. 'Yes, sir.'

'Then, I'll be back in half an hour,' he decided, placing a tip on the desk. 'Thank you...' He leant over the desk to look at her name tag. '...Mary.'

She blushed faintly and ducked her head. He smiled and turned away, finally letting out his sigh of relief. He was, hopefully, going to make Ziva very happy tonight.

**Room 1022 should be a big clue... Although, I don't expect you to know what it means. I looked it up on Megavideo so I cheated rather.**


	20. Sexy Nurse Fantasy

**So, everyone seemed to know what Room 1022 meant. I'm still completely amazed by your great understanding of NCIS past episodes. If you didn't know, you'll have to wait until next chapter to find out. I liked the episode Baltimore more than I expected and, of course, I'm very excited for Tuesday, or Wednesday due to the time difference. Bring on Swan Song. **

Ziva stood in front of the wardrobe, dressed only in a pair of panties, when Tony walked in.

His mouth curled into a smile as she spun round to greet him, her breasts shaking as if they were waving to him.

'Are we going to Hooters?' he joked.

She wrinkled up her nose and shook her head, keeping her lips shut.

Tony had been expecting her to tell him where she had made reservations, so her noticeable silence was intriguing. 'Where are we going?'

She shrugged and placed a finger on her lips.

'You aren't going to tell me?' he asked, taking hold of her other hand and raising it above her head.

She twirled round, holding his hand like in a ballroom dance. He put his arms on her waist and lifted her off the ground, her hands resting on his shoulders. He lunged forward with his right foot and her feet touched the ground, but he kept moving forwards, pulling her backwards until she was leaning completely in his arms.

His other arm slipped under her legs and she was lifted up, cradled against his chest, before being thrown onto the bed. He climbed on top of her and lowered his face, kissing her slowly.

Her eyes closed and, if this had been a corny film, fireworks would have erupting all around them, showering them with red and yellow sparks. But, it wasn't, it was real life, so all that happened was a ringing from Tony's landline.

The two just ignored the ringing. Ziva arched her neck and opened her mouth as Tony ran his lips up and down the taut skin.

'Hey, this is Tony, I'm not around right now but leave a message and I'll see if I have time to get back to you.' Tony's disembodied voice filled the apartment.

'We never put you on the answering machine,' the real Tony murmured into the crook of Ziva's neck.

She shook her head, not bothered particularly by the insignificant oversight. Tony smiled, reminded that Ziva was unlikely to read too much into small things.

His teeth nipped gently at her shoulder, causing her to let out a moan.

'Junior,' DiNozzo Senior announced, the voice coming from the phone. 'I heard you were engaged. It wouldn't be Ziva, would it?'

Tony groaned, and not due to Ziva's warm lips on his own. He climbed off her and walked over to the phone, sighing dramatically before picking it up.

'Hi Dad,' he said, putting on a martyred voice. '...It is Ziva...' He grinned at Ziva. '...We haven't set a day yet, but...Yes, Dad, we'll adapt to your schedule, of course...Oh, congratulations...Yes, Dad, we'll come...To Dubai, right...Yes, Dad...Only the best for you, Dad...Goodbye, Dad...' Shaking his head, Tony hung up and returned to the bed.

Ziva pushed him down, rolling him onto his back, and began to massage his back, her legs straddling him. 'What did your father have to say, Tony?'

Tony grunted. 'He's getting married too. I don't know her but their wedding is in Hawaii in June. We're invited.' He raised his eyebrows into the pillow. 'He's in Dubai right now so he wants us to send his invitation by air courier. I don't why he assumed that he was invited.'

'Oh, Tony,' Ziva scolded. 'Of course your father is coming.'

'And we're going to his wedding?' Tony asked, hopeful for a negative answer.

'Yes,' Ziva told him firmly. 'Think of it as an excuse to go to Hawaii, Tony.'

Tony nodded, approving of her spin on what had been considered a chore. 'I might actually enjoy this wedding.'

'Ours or his?'

Tony rolled over, knocking her off him onto the spongy mattress. 'Both.'

Ziva smiled and sat up. 'The reservations aren't for another two hours,' she murmured, pulling at the hem of her panties suggestively.

Tony's eyes lit up in anticipation before remembering his plan to take her back to the hotel. 'Oh,' he groaned. 'We have to go somewhere first.'

'Where?' Ziva asked curiously.

'It's a secret,' he told her, hoping that she wouldn't press him. Secretly he was apprehensive about taking her back to the hotel. So much water had collected under the bridge since that night that it was flooding the riverbank. 'Come on.' He stood up and moved towards the living room.

She screwed up her face, considering her options, but finally she nodded. 'Just let me get dressed.'

He laughed. 'That would be a good idea, since we aren't going to Hooters.'

She cocked her head and eyed him slyly. 'Is that a clue?'

'The only clue you're going to get.'

He turned towards the living room but changed his mind and headed back towards the bed, bending down to open the drawer of the bedside table.

She flipped through the dresses she had in the wardrobe before glancing over her shoulder at him to check that he wasn't looking and pulling one out.

Tony considered the wrappers in the drawer, visualising the evening to work out how many to take. The images that raced through his head, however, distracted him, so he ended up staring down at the colourful condom wrappers blindly.

Ziva stepped into the dress, reaching over her shoulder to zip it up. She shook her head, freeing her hair and, frowning at Tony in his reverie, walked into the bathroom to do her make up.

Tony started to lean backwards, slowly losing his balance. He managed to stop himself falling over backwards but his hot daydream was lost. He scooped up a handful of condoms and thrust them into his front pocket, standing up to look for Ziva.

Ziva regarded herself in the mirror, pleased by what she saw. She adjusted her dress and pushed open the door, stepping out to greet Tony.

Tony's mouth fell open slightly at the sight of his fiancée. She was wearing the dress from her undercover mission in Morocco. 'You never got to see it,' she explained. 'I thought at the time that you appreciate it.'

He nodded wordlessly.

She walked over to him, stepping carefully, and wrapped her arms around his neck. 'Do you like it?' she murmured.

'I do,' he agreed.

She smiled and took his hand, leading him out of the bedroom. 'Where are we going?' she asked, hoping to catch him out in his horny state.

He grinned and shook his head, wagging his finger at her. 'I'm not that easy.'

She leant up and kissed his cheek, cupping his chin with her hand.

'What was that for?' he asked softly.

She shrugged and lifted up her skirt, pulling it up to reveal her panties. She grinned and kicked off her shoes, leaving them for Tony to pick up, and ran out the door, racing down the stairs. He grabbed her heels and chased after her, slamming the door behind him.

'You know, one day we're going to twist our ankles if we keep running down the stairs,' he called.

She reached the bottom and spun round. 'Then I can look after you,' she told him.

He grinned, resuming his assumed lothario personality. 'I'd like that.'

She snorted. 'Don't tell me that you have a sexy nurse fantasy?'

He tapped the side of his nose. 'That would be telling.'

Her mouth opened. 'You do!'

'Come on,' he changed the subject, tugging at her arm. She allowed herself to be pulled out the door, beginning her mystery tour.

**Only four more reviews needed to bring it up to 100! I'm looking forward to writing the next chapter so I might update again today.**


	21. Oopsy Daisy

**We made it to 100 reviews! Thank you to girlskickass and doeboymomma for remembering the name of the hotel. I am amazed by their cavernous knowledge of NCIS and I think that you should all be too.**

Tony stopped at the traffic light and brought a red satin blindfold from his pocket.

Ziva shook her head, laughing. 'I'm not putting that on,' she insisted.

Tony held it out. 'Yes, you are,' he told her firmly.

She eyed him curiously but, narrowing her eyes, she took it from him. Turning her head away from him, she pulled it down, scrunching up her hair in the process.

He helped her, tugging her hair free.

'Where did you get this?' she asked, referring to the lusty colour and seductive fabric.

He blushed. 'I once had a girlfriend who was into...' He shook his head ruefully at the kinky memory.

Ziva pulled a face. 'You washed it since, right?'

'Of course,' he promised truthfully.

She looked unconvinced but left the blindfold covering her eyes.

The traffic light changed and Tony continued the drive, turning into a side road and doing a U-turn, driving in the opposite direction to confuse Ziva.

At what seemed like an age to blinded Ziva, Tony stopped the car.

'Can I take it off?' she asked as patiently as she could manage.

'Not yet.' He hurried round to her side of the car and helped her out of the door.

'Who said that chivalry was dead?' she said, deadpan.

He led her through the glass doors into the reception foyer, guiding her towards a chair where he sat her down before walking up to the desk. 'I was here about half an hour ago,' he told the new receptionist. 'I asked to see Room 1022.'

The receptionist nodded and pressed a bell, calling a concierge. She repeated Tony's request. The man nodded and took a key off the rack of hooks behind the desk, gesturing for Tony to follow him.

'Wait a sec,' Tony told him, returning to get Ziva.

The concierge raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Tony helped Ziva up the stairs, insisting on lifting her leg despite her protestations that she was perfectly capable of walking up stairs on her own.

He led her down the hall and stopped outside the door before removing her blindfold.

She frowned at the nondescript door before letting out a squeal of recognition. 'Tony!' She flung her arms around his neck. 'Tony! This is where we went...' She stopped, remembering the presence of the concierge.

Tony nodded at the man who unlocked the door. Ziva pulled away from Tony and walked, heading straight for the balcony.

Tony turned to the concierge and tipped him. 'We'll be down in a minute to book this room so could you save it for us?' Tony shut the door behind the man and turned back to Ziva.

'So, what do you think?' he asked.

She pushed the curtain aside and eyed him. 'It's alright, I guess,' she replied, revelling in the sense of déjà vu.

She ran lightly over to him and pressed her face against hers. 'I love you,' she whispered, pulling him into a hug.

Tony's eyes widened and he stiffened.

Ziva grimaced at her slip, her chin resting on his shoulder still. Thinking fast, she stepped away and sat down on the bed.

'It's very nice,' she remarked casually, trying to pass the comment off as insignificant.

Tony nodded slowly, wondering how to approach the delicate situation.

'We had such fun here,' she reminisced.

His eyes lit up and he lunged forward, grabbing the CD player remote. He pressed 'play' and threw himself onto the bed, landing next to her and making the mattress bounce. Ziva clutched at his jacket lapel to stop herself falling off the bed, glad that her confession had been momentarily forgotten. She needed longer to consider her true feelings before she confided in Tony. She giggled and rested her head on Tony's chest, staring up at the white ceiling.

Their marriage was temporary, to be ended once her father stopped pursuing her. She had allowed this to start, knowing full well that it would be the ultimate test of her self-control. She couldn't allow herself to fall head over heels for Tony while they were keeping the pretence up. Because that was all it was: an act. None of it was real; not the marriage, not the sex, not the romantic gestures, and definitely not the overwhelming feelings. Even as she thought it, it sounded like a feeble, transparent lie.

Tony glanced down at her, careful not to displace her. He was confused and disorientated, uncertain if she had even just told him that she loved him or not. The moment had been glossed over so fast and effectively that he found himself hugging her to him, unsure of her feelings for him, unsure of his own feelings for her.

Their marriage was temporary, happening only to keep her in America. But, why did he volunteer himself? Why had she asked him? She couldn't have chosen Ray; she could have picked any straight man off the street and either charmed, persuaded or frightened him into proposing. He sighed, remembering that it had been Vance who had asked him, not Ziva. She hadn't even wanted to start this ball rolling.

'We should go back down.' His voice seemed to come from someone else's mouth: someone who was in control of their emotions and was serenely calm. Tony was none of these.

'Yeah,' Ziva agreed, sitting up and straightening her dress. Perhaps it had been a bad wardrobe choice.

They walked down the stairs in complete silence, stopping at the front desk in symphony.

The receptionist waved her hand at them to tell them that she was just coming and picked up the ringing phone. 'Barclay Hotel, how may I help?'

Tony glanced over at Ziva, wondering whether he should say something to start the inevitable conversation. Things like that just couldn't be ignored. They would have to face up to their feelings at some point and, judging by her glassy expression and clamped lips, she was not going to initiate the discussion. This was perfectly fair, Tony mused, since she had been the first one to express the elephant in the room.

Ziva kept her gaze firmly focussed on the glass counter top, studying her reflection religiously. Anything to stop her looking at Tony. She could feel his eyes burning into her and she fought the urge to snap at him. Instead, she settled for cursing herself inwardly.

'How may I help?' the receptionist asked politely, freeing them from their insufferable silence.

'I'd like to book Room 1022 for tonight, please,' Tony requested.

He relayed all his details to her, handed over his credit card and signed the receipt, all the time wondering how their relationship would be by the end of the evening.

'So, where are we eating?' he asked as they turned towards the car park.

'If you can have secrets,' Ziva replied brightly, having seemingly forgotten about the unvoiced tension. 'So can I.'

'Fair enough,' Tony accepted.

Ziva held out the red satin blindfold. 'Put it on,' she ordered, smiling.

Tony groaned, pushing the offending article away. 'I can't drive blind, Ziva,' he protested.

'I'll drive,' she told him, thrusting it firmly into his hands.

He bent his knees, ducking down to allow her to put it over his eyes. She pulled it down gently, easing it over his carefully prepared hair.

'I'm not looking forward to this,' Tony moaned, sliding cautiously into the passenger seat.

'Don't worry,' Ziva assured him. 'I'll be careful.'

**Tomorrow. Another chapter. I promise. There will be expressions of love. Look forward to it. And review.**


	22. Hide and Seek

**Girlskickass and NCISexy both pointed out that the Room number was 1022, not 1066. My computer isn't good enough quality to tell but I'm trusting them so I changed it so far and from now on it will be Room 1022.**

She wasn't careful.

Tony stumbled out of the car, clutching his head trying to ward off the dizziness from a prominent bruise from whacking his head on the roof.

'Are you ok?' Ziva asked worriedly, feeling guilty for not going easy on the accelerator.

'Yeah,' Tony groaned unconvincingly, fingering the bump gingerly.

'Are you sure?'

Tony nodded, recognising the genuine concern in Ziva's voice and not wanting to make her feel any guiltier than she was already feeling. 'Can I take the blindfold off now?'

Ziva grabbed his arm and led him along the pavement to the entrance of Valentino's. 'Yes,' she allowed at last.

He pulled the blindfold off and looked up. He frowned, screwing up his face in thought. 'Valentino's,' he muttered. 'Valentino's...Valentino's.' His eyes widened in recognition. 'Valentino's,' he exclaimed delightedly. 'This is where we went on our first date!'

'Our only date,' Ziva corrected.

'No,' Tony argued. 'Our movie dates, our lunches in the office together, our dinners after work when we can't be bothered to cook for ourselves, our...'

'Ok, ok,' Ziva cut him off mid-flow, knowing that the list could go on endlessly. 'But, hopefully, this one will end differently to the last one.'

Tony raised his eyebrows. 'Oh?'

She grinned. 'Last time you didn't need this,' she told him, bringing out a cream La Perla bag.

Tony's mouth fell open. 'Do I still have that?'

'I found it at the back of the wardrobe yesterday afternoon,' she explained. 'Apparently, you kept it until you would get to see me in it.'

He shrugged. 'I'm not sure that you could improve on that.'

'Thank you,' she accepted graciously.

The bag swinging from her arm, she strutted towards the door. Tony watched her, only just realising quite how sexual the dress made her look. It hugged her curves perfectly and her chiselled back was clearly displayed. Ziva's usual subtleties had been cast aside to create an obvious bulge in every straight man's pants.

She paused, her hand resting on the door handle. 'You coming?' she called over her shoulder without looking round.

He nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him with her back turned to him, and followed her into the restaurant.

He looked around the large, airy room, remembering the last time he had been there. Six years ago, he had walked underneath that large skylight, guided Ziva through the polished glass tables to the small table with the stunning view of the park on the other side of the road.

This time, they were led up the stairs to the gallery overlooking the park. Tony stepped round Ziva and pulled her chair out, acting the part. Ziva thanked him with a charming smile and took her seat, watching Tony across the small table.

'It hasn't changed,' she commented.

He picked up the menu and ducked behind it. 'We've changed, though,' he said, peering over the top of the cream paper.

She paused, staring down at her right hand resting on the table. 'Yes,' she agreed at length, nudging the La Perla bag with her foot. 'This time, you will need this.'

Tony smiled weakly, disappointed by her avoidance tactics, and returned his attention to the menu, vowing to take every opportunity to open up the floor for a serious discussion.

She picked up her menu too, grasping it firmly in both hands until her knuckles turned white. She could see exactly what Tony was trying to do, and she admired him for it, although she wasn't quite ready to join in yet. She needed more time to figure out how she really felt. It wouldn't do to tell him that she loved him and then change her mind later. They were already in too deep for tentative baby steps.

She frowned, eyeing her ring-less finger. 'We haven't got a ring yet,' she remarked.

He looked up. 'What?'

'We haven't got an engagement ring yet,' she repeated, waving her left hand at him.

'Yes, well, you beat up the people in the ring shop, didn't you?' he reminded her.

She blushed, not wanting to explain the underlying reasons for her aggressive outburst.

'We'll go soon,' he promised, hiding behind his menu once more. His eyes scanned the dishes described without reading any of the words. It was all a blur in comparison to the more pressing issue of Ziva. Now that there was no chance of renting a ring at a discount price, he would need to actually buy her one. Eli would be able to spot a cheap knockoff from a mile away so there was no possibility of scrimping on the quality. He would have to fork out at least a thousand dollars which he was prepared to do, but only if it was going to be kept for a lifetime. A ring, in his eyes, was a promise to stay with him forever.

'Tomorrow?' she suggested.

'We'll see,' he replied coolly.

Ziva frowned. The mood was swinging faster than a pendulum on steroids. Why was the absence of a ring a sensitive topic? She needed to push through the rough patch so that when she excused herself to go to the bathroom to think in peace, it wouldn't seem like a cowardly escape. She moved the conversation towards safer ground.

'So, what do like the look of?' she asked.

He blinked, trying to make sense of the foggy squiggles on the fancy paper. 'Uh...' he stalled. 'The, uh, meat looks good,' he offered vaguely.

'Which meat?' Ziva pressed, not wanting to let an innocent discussion die.

'The...' He squinted at the menu, trying to find a meat dish. 'Sausage,' he read.

She nodded, relieved that the conversation was progressing away from delicate subjects. 'Mmmm,' she agreed. 'I think that I'll go for the risotto, though,' she decided.

'What wine, do you think?'

Ziva tilted her head, perusing the extensive choice. 'They all look good,' she shrugged.

Tony hailed a passing waiter and read out their order, quickly picking a reasonably priced red wine.

'Red wine, good for the heart,' he told Ziva once the waiter had moved off with their menus.

'I don't think that you need to worry about that,' she smiled.

Tony frowned, unsure whether she was talking literally about his heart's health or about her not breaking his heart metaphorically.

'You're perfectly healthy,' she explained hastily, seeing the uncertainty etched into his open face. 'Except for your lungs, obviously,' she added, flailing to avoid an opening for Tony to bring up the other possible interpretation of her words. 'Have you been to the hospital lately? To check out your lungs, I mean.' She stopped, realising that her mouth was running away from her.

'No,' Tony answered shortly, wishing that he still had his menu.

Ziva glanced over her shoulder. 'I need to go to the bathroom,' she told him, hoping that she sounded sincere and apologetic rather than nervous and relieved.

Tony nodded and pointed at the door on the ground floor. Ziva smiled and walked off, her dress clinging to her skin.

**To be continued...**

**Would you be annoyed if I brought up Jeanne in the next chapter? Or should I concentrate on Tiva?**


	23. Getting Whiplash

**Sorry for the late update; I finished this last night but wouldn't let me upload it.**

Ziva exhaled slowly, resting her hands on the sink. Her head fell back, her hair spilling over her shoulder, and she nibbled on her lip. Her chest was shaking with uncertainty. She stared into the spotless, smearless mirror, glancing over at the reflection of the closed door. The bathroom was empty apart from her and that was the way that she needed it to stay if she was going to be able to sort her feelings out. This was something that she was not practised at.

She felt something for Tony, she knew that much. But how far did those feelings stretch? Was he just a trusted partner and friend, or was there more? She had certainly not been at all dismayed when he had agreed to Vance's request to marry her. She had always known that it had been temporary, a duty that he had to do, but now her whole fundamental understanding of their relationship had been shaken up.

She raked her fingers through her hair, suddenly seeing Tony's face in front of hers. It was his fingers running through her soft hair, it was his green eyes that stared back at her instead of her own brown ones, and it was his breath that was making her so hot and bothered. Her breathing calmed and she smiled, relaxed by his, however imagined, presence.

'Tony,' she murmured under her breath. 'What am I to do?' She shook her head, completely at a loss. She needed a sign, a revelation showing her which way to turn. She understood the gravity of the decision she had to make. The wedding could not go on if she took back her quiet declaration of love. She would be sent back to Israel.

Israel was her home. So why didn't she want to go back? She was pretty sure that, even though she had lost the 'power off' button that she had used when ploughing her way through a field of lives, she would not find it too difficult to lose the warmth from her blood and cold blood to stream through her veins. Therefore, there must be something else tying her to America and, more importantly, to NCIS. Was that 'something else' Tony?

Every touch lingered with her for the rest of the day. Every word he spoke echoed through her head. Every joke was laughed at, inside at least. Every act of generosity was appreciated. He was everything to her.

She snorted. After all that worrying, she hadn't needed long to figure out her feelings for her partner. Now she only had to admit to him that she loved him.

That would be easy, surely?

Sitting at the table on his own, Tony wondered if he had done the right thing in waiting for her to broach the delicate topic of 'feelings.' And, even if she had, he wasn't quite sure what he would have said.

Obviously, he loved her. That much was a given to him. The way he had reacted when she had whispered those beautiful three words had made that perfectly clear. His heart jumped at the memory. He could still her saying it to him. Hopefully, the next time she said it, she would be more decisive.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the clamour of the busy restaurant, and sighed, feeling the burden of the moment. One way or the other, everything was going to change. He had been content with the long standing situation but, as he had always known, it couldn't continue forever. Nothing could.

He opened his eyes and looked down at their table from their last visit. Ideally, they would have been given the same table, but that only happened in movies, so he contented himself with staring at the couple now occupying 'their' seats. They seemed happy enough; talking, laughing, touching each other's arms. His mouth was set in a straight line. There was no way that they had been like that six years ago. The conversation had remained neutral, not straying into unchartered territory, and, although it had established their current working relationship, nothing especially romantic had happened. There had been flirting, naturally, but it was innocent and had no depth behind it. Now, any flirtatious act between them had a cavernous hole of meaning behind it which, if they weren't careful, they would fall into.

He drummed his fingers on the table, impatiently waiting for Ziva to return. He still had not thought up a suitable answer to reply to whatever she said but, as yet, he had no idea what she would say. Their journey had been so tempestuous and had changed course so often, that there were too many possibilities of ways to either let me down gently or hoik him up so fast he got whiplash. This was one conversation that he would have to play by ear.

'You always play things by ear,' Ziva remarked, sitting down.

Tony started; he hadn't realised that he had been thinking aloud. 'You're back,' he stated stupidly.

She smiled. 'Yes.' She swallowed, shying away from the inevitable conversation. She knew exactly what Tony would say to that: he would quote her rather philosophical utterance that 'nothing is inevitable.' She sighed, knowing that this was the exception that proved the rule. From the moment that they had stepped inside this restaurant, this conversation had been inevitable. Everything that had happened since to blow their chartered course off had just altered the nature of the discussion slightly. It was always going to happen.

That didn't make it any easier now that it was happening, though. Ziva raised her eyes, realising that Tony was waiting for her to speak. She smiled at him reassuringly, still stalling for time, and opened her mouth, willing something sensible to come out.

**Oh, another cliff hanger of sorts. I'm afraid that none of the ends of paragraphs are particularly climatic, but they are (hopefully) enough to make you read the next chapter?**

**You know, if every person who read this chapter reviewed it, it would push the number of reviews to 200. Go on. Make my day. And, more importantly, push my fingers to type out another chapter tomorrow. It only takes a second...**


	24. Love Which Festers, Conquers

**Man, this was definitely the hardest chapter to write. I hope that I have done it justice.**

'Is our food here yet?' she asked chirpily.

'You weren't gone _that_ long,' Tony replied, slightly unkindly.

He was rather disappointed by her feeble question. Had she not gone to the bathroom to sort her head out? Was she chickening out now? Apparently so.

Ziva did not let her pathetic smile falter but her insides had fallen flat. Why had she backed out at the last moment? Was she not stronger than this? Apparently not.

'Did I miss anything?' she continued blearily, suddenly possessed by a blind need to escape admitting her feelings.

'No,' Tony answered shortly, willing her to move onto more soul searching questions.

She bit her lip and stared at her napkin, twisting it round and round in her fidgeting fingers, foxing the corners and ripping small sections off. She could hear Tony shuffling his feet restlessly under the table.

She had to do something.

'I love you,' she blurted out.

Time seemed to stop.

Tony blinked, thrown by the plunge into the deep end of the ocean. 'I love you too,' he replied calmly, seemingly unnerved.

Ziva shivered, goose bumps sprouting all up and down her arms. 'Well, that's settled then,' she stated flatly.

Tony nodded and shifted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He placed his hands on the table, wishing that the waiter hadn't taken away the menus for the second time that evening since it would have been a blessing to have something to hide behind.

Saving them both from drowning in the bottomless gorge of silence, the waiter swooped in on them, bearing plates of steaming food.

Tony thanked him heartily, grinning plastically at Ziva before tucking straight into his sausage. Ziva smiled back, her eyes dull, and copied him, shovelling risotto into her mouth as elegantly as was possible without leaving a pause which required conversation.

Unfortunately for them but fortunately for their relationship, their plates did not have a limitless vat of food and, before long, they had cleaned their plates so meticulously that the dishwasher in the kitchen would most probably cast it aside as unused.

They pushed their plates away simultaneously, somewhat glad that neither had finished early so no one was sitting awkwardly while the other chewed away self-consciously.

'So,' Tony began, leaving the stage open for Ziva.

'So,' she repeated, smiling superficially. 'That was nice.'

'Ziva,' he addressed her monotonically. 'You love me.'

She blinked. 'Yes,' she agreed. 'And you love me.'

Tony chuckled. 'Don't you think we need to talk about this?' he prompted softly.

Ziva sighed, meeting his probing gaze for the first time that night. 'Ok,' she accepted.

Tony bit his lip; put on the spot, it was harder to speak freely. 'Well,' he began thoughtfully. 'When did you figure this out?'

Ziva considered the question, wondering how to approach answering it. She had just two options: complete, frank honesty; or gentler, closed interpretations of the truth. Again, she found that the answer came to her quicker than she had expected.

Choosing the former, she leant forward confidentially. 'I only figured it out in the bathroom just now, but I guess it has been festering for rather a long time.'

Tony nodded dumbly, stunned by the straight forward answer. He was used to her dodging insightful questions and batting them back into his court. To be fair, he was just as bad as her, if not worse. He was taken back to a question she had once asked him about soul mates. "Do you believe in soul mates?" He blushed, a delayed reaction to his infantile answer. 'Yes, I do believe in them,' he told her, forgetting that she could not know what question he was answering.

'What?'

He sighed. 'You once asked me if I believe in soul mates. Well, I do.'

Ziva smiled, pleased that he remembered her question and pleased with the answer given, however late it was in coming. 'So do I,' she murmured. 'And I think I've found him.'

Tony grinned, suppressing a pleased laugh. 'I know that I've found mine.'

She raised herself up and, leaning on the table, she reached across and kissed him. He returned the kiss, throwing himself deeply into the passionate embrace. Neither of the pair - no, _couple_ - noticed the waiter hesitate a few metres from their table before deciding against interrupting them.

Finally, Ziva broke the kiss, sitting back down. Tony grinned foolishly across the table, his beam wide and his eyes bright and squirrel-esque.

'I would say that kisses definitely get better with love,' he remarked glibly.

'Do you think it works the same way with sex?'

Tony's smile got wider, if that was even possible. 'Why don't we find out?' he suggested, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

'No dessert?' she gasped in mock shock.

His eyes sparkled. 'No dessert,' he agreed. He put his hand to the side of his mouth and said in a stage-whisper, 'That's how all the best evenings start.'

Ziva glanced at her watch. 'I think the evening's past, Tony. It's eleven o'clock.'

The waiter, seeing a window of opportunity to clear their table, hurried over.

'Can we have the bill, please?' Tony asked politely.

The waiter nodded and took their dishes away.

'We shall have to do this more often,' Ziva commented.

'Do what? Come here, or tell each other that we love each other?' Tony placed his hand on hers, admiring her beauty.

'I love you, Tony,' she quipped easily, the words slipping off her tongue like she was asking for coffee.

'I love you too,' he told her smoothly, finding that it was not as hard the second time. Although, technically, it was not the first time for her.

The waiter brought them the bill and Tony left the money on the silver dish provided, trying not to blanch at the extortionate price demanded.

'We can halve it,' she whispered as they left, working their way through the maze of tables and chairs.

Tony put his hand protectively on her bared back, noticing the testosterone-driven glances she was attracting. 'It's fine,' he insisted. 'I must get used to spending if we are going ahead with the wedding.'

Ziva grimaced. 'Weddings are expensive,' she agreed.

'It would be easier if we eloped,' Tony mused.

Ziva laughed, pushing into the crisp night air out of the air-conditioned restaurant. 'My father would not buy it,' she replied tersely, reminded of the less than romantic reasoning behind their marriage.

'Are we really still doing this for your father?' Tony asked quietly.

Silence.

'Ziva?' he prompted, keeping his hand on her back.

'No,' she murmured in reply. 'Not for my father, for us.'

Tony smiled. That was the ultimate victory for their relationship.

'I love you, Ziva,' he whispered.

'I love you, Tony,' she replied.

They both smiled in the romantic dusk. They were in love.

**I **_**really **_**hope that you like this. I wasn't sure if it did the situation justice. Also, I have no idea about American restaurants but I figured that nobody would be paying attention to that when Tony and Ziva were admitting their feelings...**


	25. Missionary

**I wasn't sure whether the last chapter worked but all the reviews I got were positive so I guess that is a good sign. You might hate me half way down this chapter but keep going, I think that I redeem myself.**

Halfway down the main road, Tony pulled into the side, sliding neatly into a space.

Frowning, Ziva looked around her. 'What are we doing here?' she asked curiously.

Tony grinned and opened his door. 'Come on,' he called over his shoulder, running across the road, dodging the cars. Hurriedly, Ziva followed, holding up her hand in apology to the beeping drivers. Tony slowed down on the opposite pavement and took her hand, leading her towards a shop window. 'What do you think?' he whispered, pushing his mouth through the curtain of hair shielding her ears.

Ziva's mouth opened in silent admiration. 'They're beautiful,' she cried. She placed her hand on the glass, emulating a child staring through a toy shop window at a shiny toy motor car.

'Which one do you like?' he asked, ignoring the price tags on the diamond rings.

Ziva turned from the one she had been staring at lustily. She jabbed her finger at the glass, pointing at a mammoth diamond set into an elaborate gold band.

Tony swallowed, preparing himself mentally before looking at the price. He stifled a gasp of horror and grinned weakly. 'Sure,' he agreed, completely willing to pay the extortionate fee.

Ziva chuckled. 'I was kidding, Tony,' she assured him. 'I wouldn't ask you to pay that much.'

Tony laughed weakly, thoroughly relieved to be freed from that kind of responsibility. 'Thank God,' he breathed. 'So, which one do you really like?'

Ziva immediately turned to the one she had originally been lusting over and pointed at it.

Tony peered at the scrawled writing on the tag and smiled gratefully. Ziva had mercifully chosen a reasonably priced one, not that Tony wouldn't have willingly coughed up for the ridiculously expensive one, of course.

Naturally, the shop was closed for the evening, but Tony made up his mind to come back early the next morning. They walked back across the road, holding hands, and climbed into their respective seats in the car.

Watching the traffic move slowly across the crossroads in front of the stationary car, Ziva turned to Tony and clutched at his arm. 'Thank you, Tony,' she murmured softly.

Tony looked up, not really hearing what she had said. 'No,' he replied. 'The lights are still red.'

Ziva frowned. 'What?'

'What did _you _say?' Tony inquired, realising that he had probably made something up.

'I thanked you,' she snapped.

Tony blushed apologetically. 'Sorry, I thought you were telling me to go.'

Ziva glanced up at the traffic lights. 'Go, Tony,' she ordered.

'Yes, Ziva, that's what I said,' he told her irritably, annoyed by their lack of successful communication.

Ziva rolled her eyes, hiding her dismay that what had been meant to be a touching moment had not gone as planned. 'No, Tony,' she said, as if talking to a child. 'The lights are red.'

Tony glanced out the window, shot Ziva a glare and moved off, cursing the impatient, honking drivers behind him.

Ziva sighed and leant back in her seat. 'Nothing ever works out for us,' she grumbled quietly.

'I know what you mean,' Tony agreed sympathetically.

Ziva shook off her self-pity and sat up, her eyes flashing stubbornly. 'This is,' she declared emphatically. 'This relationship will work.'

Tony nodded. 'Of course it will,' he promised.

They shared a meaningful smile before focusing their attention back on the road. The rest of the journey was spent in companionable conversation, lightly discussing neutral topics.

Walking through the glass doors, Ziva was finally able to appreciate the memories that she had in the hotel. Before, she had blindfolded but, fully sighted, she was hit by a wave of nostalgia. It had been easy to have enjoyable, uncomplicated sex while undercover. If the same scenario had presented itself (before this marriage thing had changed their relationship irrevocably), it would have been fraught with complications.

'Room 1022,' Tony requested.

The receptionist handed him the key and they walked up to their room, shoulders bumping as they climbed the stairs.

Tony dimmed the lights as soon as the door was closed and Ziva pulled the curtains together. Smiling seductively in the low light, Ziva advanced on him, shedding her dress as she moved.

Tony was soon disrobed as well and they fell onto the bed, lips locking. The sex was fairly standard: the same as they had before, mixing emotional passion with physical pleasure with gentle caresses.

Him on top. Her on top. Lips on lips. Lips on dick. Lips on clit. Missionary. Anal. Oral.

Afterwards, Tony lay panting on the bed, wondering how the whole event had flashed past him. He had barely had time to register Ziva's milky body before his erection had been satisfied and she had rolled off him, sweaty from her climax. Now, he lay alone on the bed, thinking back over the sex, remembering it with a strange blurry clarity. What had changed? Had commitment altered the way they perceived each other?

Ziva stared at her reflection in the mirror. Surely, sex was meant to improve with love? Surely, that was how relationships worked? She cursed herself for being so inexperienced. Never before had she admitted that she loved someone, never before had she even been in love. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the niggling doubts that lingered. As yet, she hadn't been able to commit herself to him fully.

She drew herself up and turned resolutely from the mirror, leaving the lesser reflection of herself behind. She loved Tony. That should be reflected in their sex.

Tony sat up as Ziva strode purposefully into the room, still naked. She climbed onto the bed beside him and laid her hand on his chest, stroking it gently.

'I'm ready, Tony,' she promised.

Tony smiled encouragingly, although he was not sure what she was referring to.

'I'm ready to love you, Tony,' she expanded.

This time, Tony's smile was broad and genuine.

'I'm ready too,' he replied.

His thigh pushed in between her thighs, all three limbs still damp from the exertion of their earlier sex.

Tony's eyes closed peacefully and he pulled her closer. She lay stiff for a moment, disappointed that her plan to have gentle, heated sex looked unpromising. A contented smile broke out on her face, making her skin glow, as she realised that this could be just as romantic as sex. She nestled her head into his chest and moaned pleasurably. This was what love was. And she could lie here for eternity.

**Everybody watched Swan Song, right? The elevator scene was so AMAZING! I think that I am going to have work in a scene in the elevator at some point in this fic dedicated to that WONDERFUL moment. I don't quite understand why Ziva was so upset by Franks's death but that did not spoil the scene. Loved Kort's appearance too. He is always fantastic. And he's British which gets him instant love from me!**


	26. Wild Thing, You Make My Heart Sing

**I am now on study leave so, after the first week of manic exams are over, I should be able to update more. Don't expect too much over the next weekend though.**

**Thanks for all the explanations of Ziva's little breakdown in Autopsy. It makes much more sense now. Can't wait for the next episode!**

Ziva's eyes opened slowly and she moaned, shifting around to get comfortable. A quiet snore beside her opened her eyes fully. She rolled onto her side and smiled at Tony's peacefully sleeping face.

Running her hand lightly up his chest, she planted a soft kiss on his lips. They parted at the touch and he kissed her back, opening one eye and looking at her with an amused expression.

'Morning,' he greeted throatily.

She grinned at him. 'Morning,' she replied, brighter than he had managed. She wiggled back into his body, settling down to wake up slower.

Closing her eyes, she drifted back to sleep, snoozing gently in his arms. He watched her sleeping for a while before dozing off as well.

The nasal cry of his phone woke them up. Tony groaned and reached out, blindly searching for his phone on the bedside table. Finding nothing, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He peered blearily over the edge of the bed and spotted the corner of his black phone peeking out from under a pile of discarded clothes from the night before.

He jerked forward; lying sprawled on his front, and stretched out to pick up the phone without leaving the warmth of Ziva's body. After a couple of seconds of scrabbling, he admitted to himself that he could not reach it and he clambered out of bed, grumbling to himself. Ziva grunted and pulled the pillow over her head, trying to shut out the shrill caw of the ring.

'Yes,' he answered gruffly, already annoyed at whoever was on the other end.

'Tony,' Gibbs barked down the line.

Tony closed his eyes, now even more frustrated since he couldn't really get mad at Gibbs for calling him. 'Yes,' he replied as politely as he could.

'We've got a case,' he was told curtly. 'Bring Ziva.' Gibbs promptly hung up, and Tony was left listening to a drone, which he found strangely calming.

'Tony,' Ziva asked, slightly unnerved by Tony's placid expression.

Tony's head jerked up to look at her and the phone dropped from his now limp hand. 'Yes?'

'Who was that?'

Tony stood up and crawled back into bed, wriggling next to her. She seemed to be exuding heat and Tony was cold after his trip outside the cosiness of the bed without any clothes on. 'That was Gibbs,' he told her ruefully. 'He wants us.'

Ziva sighed and pushed him lightly, half-heartedly reprimanding him for climbing back into bed. 'Shouldn't we go?' she asked, doubting even her own words.

Tony shrugged and nodded but made no move to get up.

'You know...' Ziva suggested slowly as is choosing her words carefully. 'We never had sex again last night...' She left the offer hanging in the air, dangling it in front of his nose like a carrot on a string. Tony hee-hawed and reached out for the proffered vegetable.

His hand slid up her bare leg, coming to a stop at the top of her thigh. Ziva's lips parted in anticipation, breathless as she waited for the sensation of Tony's fingers gently stroking her clit.

Tony played with her folds, bending down and sliding his head in between her moist legs. Ziva's head fell back, her mouth opening in an 'oh' of pleasure.

Tony's head reappeared, a cheeky expression gracing his chiselled features. 'Just time for a quickie?' he grinned.

Ziva fell back in response, allowing Tony to climb on top of her. There was no time for foreplay; Tony slipped quickly into her.

The two of them were proof that length did not determine passion. By the time that Tony rolled off her and lay beside her, his chest was heaving and his face was dripping with perspiration.

Ziva turned over and rested her chin on Tony's chest. 'We should probably go,' she said, her words muffled by her limited jaw movement.

Tony grunted in agreement and gently pushed her off him, sitting up and sliding a pair of clean boxers up his damp legs.

Ziva knelt up behind him and expertly massaged his shoulders with her hands, causing him to groan in gratification. 'Ziva,' he breathed gutturally.

She smiled, pleased by the sexual intonation to his voice.

'Come on, Ziva,' he grumbled unconvincingly. 'Gibbs will be waiting.'

She wrinkled her nose, her eyes glinting. 'If he is mad,' she decided, deliberating over her words. 'I shall have to punish you when we get back...' She grinned mischievously. 'Just to make sure that you are truly sorry.'

Tony chuckled; he was already looking forward to the evening. He was even hoping that Gibbs would tell them off. Ziva had really twisted him round her little finger with that suggestion. What a woman!

She withdrew her hands and allowed him to stand up. She sighed and looked at him. 'There is a probably a reason that Gibbs wants us in,' she mused, narrowing her eyes. Neither wanted to be late nor, however alluring Ziva's punishment sounded, did they want Gibbs to actually be mad at them.

A mutual agreement was silently understood and they both leapt off the bed, determined not to be any later than they would have been if they had got up immediately and got ready at a normal relaxed pace.

The bedroom became alive with bustle and activity. Despite the apparent chaos, it was as efficient as a well-oiled engine. They had worked alongside each other to know what the other need before it was asked for. Throwing bras, shirts, trousers and jackets across the room to each other, they got dressed in record time before splitting up.

Tony raced into the kitchen, grabbing bowls and spoons with one hand and opening a bottle of milk with his teeth, while his eyes roamed the kitchen looking for the sugar. He dumped his load on the table and poured cereal into the bowls before shouting out to Ziva. Spooning his breakfast into his mouth with the speed of a pogo stick on steroids, he had emptied his bowl in seconds and, rinsing it out, he ran back into the bedroom.

Ziva washed her face and wavered in between rushing her make up and going out bare faced. Tony's shout made her leave the foundation untouched and content herself with running a comb through her hair a few more times. She would definitely not have time to straighten her hair.

Tony barged into the bathroom and splashed his own face. Ziva checked her face once more in the mirror before dashing into the kitchen to down her breakfast. Once her bowl had been rinsed too, she hurried back into the bathroom, brushing her teeth beside Tony before they both ran towards the front door.

This time, the race down the stairs was not competitive, but rather a friendly desperate attempt to avoid the taciturn wrath of Gibbs. They piled into the car and Tony shot through the streets of the city, trying his best to dodge other cars. Only once they had cleared the congested centre did they relax. Tony let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and glanced at Ziva.

A grin spread over his face. 'You haven't worn your hair like that for ages,' he remarked approvingly. 'I like it.'

She grimaced and tried to flatten it in the side mirror. 'I prefer it straight,' she complained.

'Why?' Tony inquired curiously.

Ziva shrugged. 'It looks neater like this.'

'No,' Tony disagreed. 'It reminds you of your wild side.' He growled comically and she duly laughed, shaking her head. To anyone else, laughing would have been a duty but, to her, laughing was a release of true appreciation at his attempts to make her lighten up and let go of her burden of gravity.

'I still have a wild side, Tony,' she told him.

'You'll have to prove it,' he replied lightly, though his heart was beating faster than ever.

She blinked teasingly and turned to look out the window, neither accepting nor declining the challenge.

**Do you want a Gibbs Rule 12 talk? I'm kind of inclined to do it the same way that it went with Tony about EJ but obviously less 'I don't trust her' and more 'You would have to take proper care of her.' But maybe Gibbs would feel completely different if it was Tony and Ziva they were discussing. What do you think?**


	27. You Still Haven't Punished Me

**Chapter 27 and still going strong!**

McGee looked up at the 'ding' of the elevator and watched Tony and Ziva hurry into the bullpen, throwing themselves into their seats, absolutely exhausted.

'What did we miss?' Tony panted.

McGee looked between the two of them, curious as to what had happened. Yeah, they looked like they had just crawled out of bed, but, more importantly, they both had a contented, self-satisfied smirk on their faces.

'Gibbs wants you to meet him at the crime scene,' McGee relayed.

'And, what about you?' Tony inquired.

'We've already got a suspect,' McGee explained. 'I'm checking that out.'

'Fair enough,' Tony accepted and grabbed his bag. 'Come on, Ziva.' Ziva followed him back into the elevator.

They arrived at the crime scene sooner than Gibbs had expected. McGee had called to tell him that they had just left for the crime scene and, by Gibbs's calculations; they should have spent ten minutes more on the drive over.

'Did Ziva drive?' Gibbs asked as they approached.

Tony looked stunned. 'Uh, yeah, Boss. How did you know?'

'Tony,' Ziva said. 'He's Gibbs; he knows everything.'

Tony frowned. 'Isn't that what Abby says?'

'Yes, I was quoting her.' Ziva rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Gibbs.

Gibbs eyed the two of them curiously but explained the case to them in detail.

Ziva moved off to bag the evidence and Tony strode over to the sobbing woman who had found the body.

Already, they could tell that this case was going to be a difficult one. The burned corpse of a baby was a sure way to piss Gibbs off.

'Go back,' Gibbs ordered when they recounted what they had found. 'Give the evidence to Abby and look over the photos.' He handed Ziva the camera. 'Maybe let Tony drive back,' he suggested. 'Tony still looks a bit shaken.' Ziva grinned weakly and nodded, letting Tony slide into the driver's seat.

'Well,' Tony remarked after a lengthy silence. 'At least we're saved from discussing our relationship with them for a while.'

Ziva nodded silently.

'We should discuss this...us...a bit more before we tell Gibbs.'

Again, Ziva nodded.

'Abby will be excited,' he tried again. 'She's always secretly wanted us to get together.'

Ziva just sat there dumbly.

Tony sighed. 'What's wrong?' he asked gently.

'Nothing,' Ziva answered quietly. 'I'm fine.'

'Ziva...' Tony prodded.

'Tony,' Ziva said, a little more sharply than she intended. 'I'm fine.'

Tony was not convinced but he accepted her insistence. 'Ok.'

A few minutes later, Ziva struck up a new, less delicate conversation which lasted the duration of the journey.

The safe conversations continued for the next few days, neither wanting to disrupt the seemingly settled calm of the other. The topic of their relationship remained untouched and, secretly, they were both rather relieved to escape thinking about what came next.

Gibbs replaced the phone to its cradle and set off towards the elevator down to Autopsy. Ziva and Tony watched him go before turning to each other.

They had established a mutual practice of snatching every available opportunity to talk to each other. They might not be discussing matters of the heart, but their friendship had been solidified over the few days of working this case.

'He's quite worked up about this,' Tony remarked, as casually as could manage.

Ziva sighed, her face weary from the succession of long nights. 'There was a baby involved, Tony. That affects Gibbs.'

'I know.' He frowned, trying to make sense of his thoughts. 'But, children have been involved before. This one has really got Gibbs hooked. Everyone hooked,' he added, thinking of himself.

Ziva nodded. 'I know what you mean,' she assured him. Maybe,' she continued, her forehead creasing in thought. 'It's the way the baby was involved.'

'What do you mean?'

Ziva leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and cupping her chin in her hands. 'The baby was burnt. It wasn't loved at all. There was no compassion in this killing.' She paused, swallowing before continuing. 'Usually babies are taken as leverage because they have someone who would do anything for them. There was no motive to kill this baby.' She looked down at her desk. 'The fact that it was the mother that killed the child didn't help either,' Ziva added.

'I can't imagine a mother doing that. Not to their own child.'

Ziva didn't reply as the ding of the elevator distracted them both. McGee trudged into the bullpen, his hair matted on his head, his eyes red and puffy with large grey bags underneath them. He had not gone home for two nights in a row and was utterly exhausted.

'You got anything?' Ziva asked him.

McGee flopped down behind his desk and rubbed his eyes. 'No,' he replied despondently. 'I went through a weeks worth of security camera footage and I got nothing.'

'Absolutely nothing?' Tony asked incredulously.

'Nope.' McGee switched on his computer, ready to continue the day's toil.

'You should go home, McGee,' Ziva told him kindly.

'I can't. Boss…'

'Go home, McGee,' Gibbs ordered, rounding the corner.

'I'm fine,' McGee protested. 'Another couple of hours –'

'Will kill you,' Gibbs finished. 'Go home.'

McGee nodded and turned his computer off again, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

'McGee,' Gibbs called after him. 'Did you find anything?'

'No,' McGee replied. 'Nothing on any of the security –'

'We'll tell him, McGee,' Ziva piped up. 'You go.'

McGee smiled gratefully and hurried towards the elevator.

'So?' Gibbs prompted.

'He found nothing,' Tony concluded shortly. He eyed Gibbs worriedly. 'Boss,' he began nervously. 'You should go home too. Me and Ziva can…'

'Ziva and I,' Ziva corrected, a glint in her eyes at the rare opportunity to correct Tony instead of him pointing out her mistakes, and seizing the chance to lighten the atmosphere. Gibbs would never accept Tony's offer so there were was no need to give him the chance to answer.

Tony scowled at her, glancing at Gibbs and realising that he was fighting a lost battle. 'What did Ducky find?' he asked instead.

'The baby was a boy,' Gibbs revealed, sadness weighing his voice down. He looked up at his two agents and sighed. The case had been taking its toll on all of them. 'I'm going for coffee.'

Once he was gone, Tony took his attention from his computer screen and looked back at Ziva. 'He has been drinking more coffee than usual.'

'He does not need you to worry about him.'

'I know. It's just…' Tony frowned, distracted by the underlying misery in Ziva's voice. 'Are you ok?'

Ziva barked a laugh. 'Tony, stop looking for someone to look after. You do not need to keep us together.'

'I know,' Tony replied softly. 'You are much quieter than usual.'

Ziva rolled her eyes. 'Everybody is, Tony. I am, Gibbs is, McGee is, you are too. We have had cases like this before, though, so we know how it goes. We go mad trying to work it out, we solve it, we celebrate serving the justice, and then we move on to the next case.'

'You're quieter than you are normally when we have cases that affect you.'

'What are you getting at, Tony?' Ziva snapped.

Tony sighed and pulled his chair closer to the desk, bringing him a few inches closer to Ziva. 'Something about this is bothering you more than usual.' He narrowed his eyes. 'Why is that, Ziva?' He stared at her, obviously expecting an answer.

'If we find who did this, Tony,' she answered, speaking quietly. 'We can move on. But we will only catch him if we try. And that requires us to actually do work.' She clamped her lips firmly shut, showing him that she had had the last word on the subject, and turned her attention back to her computer, typing furiously.

Tony watched her closely; seeing how tightly her jaw was clenched, how her knuckles had turned white, how she was fighting an urge to glance at him. He longed to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. He wished he could make this better but…He frowned. Why shouldn't he? There was nothing holding them back. They were going to be married. Husbands comforted their wives, he should have no reservations. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. They were in love and getting married, he corrected.

He stood, pushing his chair back, and walked purposefully over to her desk. She raised her eyes, keeping her head down, and watched him. He moved round her desk and knelt on the floor beside her. She twisted her chair round to face him and he took her hand in his, stroking the palm with his thumb. She smiled, her eyes glistening slightly from unshed tears.

He released her hand and reached up, pulling her arms so that she slid off her chair and knelt with him on the floor. He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly to him. He could feel her heartbeat pounding furiously.

'What's wrong?' he whispered, his lips brushing against her hair.

She was silent for so long that Tony was about to pull out of the hug and ask her more firmly, but then she answered. 'I can't help wondering…' She stopped.

'What?' Tony pressed gently.

'If I had a child…' She lowered her eyes and stared at his knees. 'I don't think that I would be a good mother.'

Tony stared at her. He almost felt like laughing, he was so relieved that it was nothing more serious or difficult to refute.

'Of course you would be,' he disputed softly. 'You would be great. For starters, any baby of yours would be so beautiful that it would be impossible not to love it.' He grinned at her but she still seemed in need of further reassurance. 'You have always been good with any children that come in here,' he reminded her. 'You make them laugh, and you would do anything for them. Plus, if it was your own child, you would be able to make your mark on them. They would be the toughest kid at nursery.' He laughed. 'And they would love you back. Of course they would. How could they not?' He ruffled her hair affectionately. 'You are always too hard on yourself.' His eyes narrowed. 'Why are you worrying about this anyway?' he asked gently.

Ziva smiled at him, her eyes lighting up. 'No reason,' she replied smoothly. 'Thank you, Tony.'

He grinned broadly. 'What are husbands for?'

'You aren't my husband yet,' she reminded him.

'I'm practising,' he explained. 'I want to be the best husband ever.'

She nodded and kissed him before using him as a prop to stand up.

'Try being the best agent ever,' Gibbs interjected, striding into the bullpen, bearing three cups of coffee. He placed two on Ziva's desk and took a long swig from his own.

Tony stared at the coffee on Ziva's desk, his eyes wide and suspicious. 'Uh, thanks Boss,' he stuttered.

Ziva rolled his eyes at his expression and picked a cup off Tony's desk. 'Just drink it, Tony.'

Tony took the remaining cup and sniffed it before taking a small sip, grimacing at the taste. 'I think that this is yours.' He held the cup out to Ziva. 'Not enough sugar.'

Ziva traded coffees and didn't bother twisting the cup round so that she wasn't drinking from the same part of the rim as Tony. They were getting married so why bother? They had kissed often enough. She smiled at the way they had progressed since their first day working together.

'Get back to work,' Gibbs barked impatiently.

Abby ran into the bullpen, pigtails flying round her face and slapping her cheeks. 'Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!' she cried excitedly. 'Gibbs!'

'Yes, Abbs?' the man in question answered.

'I've found her!' Abby revealed in a squeal. 'I've found the mother!'

Gibbs stood up and hugged her. Abby's eyes widened at the uncharacteristic gesture; usually she had to initiate any physical contact.

'Where is she?' Gibbs asked urgently, releasing her sooner than she would have liked.

'She's dead, Gibbs,' Abby told him.

Gibbs frowned. 'What?'

'She killed herself the day after she killed her baby,' Abby explained. 'Her body's being transferred to NCIS now.'

Gibbs shook his head and sank back into his chair. 'Thanks, Abbs,' he said, a tad gruffly.

Abby nodded and patted his arm sympathetically before tottering back down to her lab.

'Go home,' Gibbs ordered.

Tony and Ziva nodded, glad that the ordeal was over. Stepping into the elevator, Ziva leaned her chest against Tony's. 'She killed herself,' she repeated thoughtfully.

'She couldn't take what she did,' Tony suggested.

'So, she did care?'

Tony tilted her chin up to look at him. 'All mothers care,' he whispered, bowing his head to kiss her forehead.

Ziva nodded and smiled, reassured by his promise.

'She should tell them tomorrow,' she announced.

Tony looked at her, confused. 'Tell them what?'

'That we want to get married for real.'

Tony laughed. 'Yes,' he cried, speaking loudly. 'Yes.' His voice dropped to a murmur. 'We want to get married for real.'

She threw her arms around him and squeezed his middle. 'I love you, Tony,' she told him earnestly.

Tony smiled. 'Me too.'

Ziva chuckled. 'Of course you do. You've always loved yourself.'

Tony was reminded of something she had said just after she had returned to NCIS after they had rescued her. "Of course you do. You get to talk about yourself the entire time." He regarded her and smiled, overjoyed by the distance she had come in just a couple of years.

Ziva seemed to be thinking along the same tracks for her next words were: 'Thank you, Tony. I owe everything to you.'

Tony grinned. 'You still haven't punished me for being late last week...'

**Much, much longer than I'm used to writing but I thought I'd just throw this in before getting to more relationship mumbo jumbo. I'm still not quite sure how to write the Gibbs lecture scene so I guess I'm stalling for time...**


	28. Rabid Hickies

**Ok, so I decided that I needed more time to perfect the Rule 12 talk chapter so I will upload it tomorrow.**

Ziva smiled as Tony crept out of bed looking thoroughly embarrassed. He pulled the bathroom door to behind him. She tiptoed to the crack and peered through, employing her rusty spy skills. She stifled a giggle. He was inspecting the bruises incurred the night before.

'Do you regret last night?' she asked, pushing the door open lazily with her foot.

Tony blushed as she stepped in, caught staring at his naked body in the mirror. 'No,' he answered shortly. 'But Gibbs is sure to see these. Even if I wear my most modest suit...'

Ziva chuckled wryly. 'I should have stayed down at your crotch, is that what you're suggesting?'

'Or you could have been slightly less vigorous,' he suggested. 'You were quite aggressive. For a while there, I was quite worried.'

She took a step towards him. He resisted the urge to draw nervously away. 'But, Tony,' she said in a husky, sultry voice. 'You had been a bad, bad boy, and you needed to be punished.' She watched him through long eyelashes.

'I think you need to work on your punishments,' he replied smoothly. 'They were too enjoyable to be effective.'

'Perhaps we could try again tonight,' she offered.

Tony was sincerely tempted. 'Just try not to make any more marks,' he warned, ruefully eyeing his bruised neck in the mirror. 'They look like hickies made by a rabid dog. Can you get rabies from hickies?'

She laughed. 'They _are _hickies,' she told him. 'I got just a bit carried away so they are a little more pronounced, that's all.'

He shook his head and fingered the discolouration gingerly. 'You aren't going to be a husband-beater, are you?' he half-joked.

She moved closer and began to lace his battered neck with tender kisses. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'But I promise that I'll make it up to you.'

He guided her lips towards his face and kissed her. 'I expect you to keep that promise,' he threatened.

'We have to go to work,' she murmured.

He sighed, not particularly excited by the prospect. 'I used to love going into work to see you,' he admitted. 'Now, I have you at home, so why would I go to work?'

Her heart fluttered girlishly at his words. 'Because you have a wedding to pay for,' she reminded him.

'I thought you wanted to elope,' he teased.

She giggled. 'Las Vegas,' she suggested. 'You could be Elvis and I could be Catwoman.' She eyed him coyly. 'You look quite fetching in a white, skin-tight shell suit.'

Tony flushed at the reminder. 'Or you could be Abominatrix and I could be Superman.'

Ziva frowned. 'Abominatrix?' she queried.

Tony nodded gravely and wrapped his arm around her waist. 'She was devilishly strong, rather irritable which makes her even more dangerous. "I could kill you 18 different ways with this paperclip",' he quoted her.

She grinned and lowered her eyes sheepishly. He paused and eyed her affectionately before continuing. 'She was completely crazy, but for all that killing, she was quite domestic. Fond of her soap operas, I believe.'

Ziva punched him lightly in the chest. 'I am not domestic,' she protested.

Tony raised his eyebrows disbelievingly and led her over to the sink to prove her wrong. 'Before we had sex last night, you insisted on doing the washing up,' he reminded her. Next, he moved over to the counter. 'You wouldn't let me undress until you had cleaned up the coffee spill.'

She swatted him with her hand. 'You are so clumsy,' she scolded.

'I rest my case,' he concluded triumphantly.

She shrugged and rested her head on his chest. 'I'm allowed to be domestic,' she defended softly. 'I'm going to be a wife.'

His chest constricted, but not paralysed by panic; instead, it twisted in a convulsion of delirious anticipation. 'You're going to be my wife,' he murmured, more to himself than to Ziva.

'Not unless we organise the wedding,' she replied, repeating the urges of Vance to hurry up and tie the knot.

He looked down at her. 'First, we have to talk to Gibbs,' he noted, his spirits sinking at the anticlimax. It was not a cheering prospect.

Ziva pulled away and looked him straight in the eye. 'Whatever he says, it won't change us, will it?' she asked, seeking reassurance.

He reached out his hands, offering his chest as her head rest again. 'Of course not. We are getting married whatever.'

'And Rule 12?'

'Gibbs has already agreed to us getting married,' Tony pointed out. 'He can't object now.'

'Things have changed,' Ziva countered. 'Love changes things.'

Tony shrugged. 'To us, definitely; to them, not really. It is still a wedding between friends.'

'Between lovers,' Ziva corrected.

Tony wrinkled up his nose. 'I think we'll just leave that up to their imagination. I don't really want to discuss our sex life with Gibbs.'

Ziva chuckled. 'You never minded before,' she mentioned pointedly.

Tony's ears reddened. In hindsight, he regretted discussing his sexual encounters with other women in front of Ziva. He could only imagine how weird it must be for her to know that she was in the same position as so many other women before her and know exactly how each time had gone in gross detail. 'You're different,' he assured her.

Her cheeks tinged pink, pleased. She knew that he was only referring to the fact that Gibbs knew her, in comparison to his other conquests, but it didn't hurt to hear him put it that way.

His outstretched arms dropped to his side and he stepped forward, pulling her into a bear hug. 'You're different in every way,' he whispered.

She squirmed happily. 'So, we tell Gibbs today?' she clarified.

'Yes,' he confirmed decisively. 'We tell him that we are in love and that our marriage is going to last beyond your father's scrutiny.' He felt her stiffen and he realised his mistake. 'That our marriage is going to last _forever_,' he amended.

**I promise that I'll do the Rule 12 talk tomorrow. Any more suggestions would be really helpful. Only 20 more reviews to 200. I think that you could bring it up before tomorrow...**


	29. Porn Substitute

**Ok. So this is the chapter before the Rule 12 talk. I've written it already but I need to tweak it a little more. Sorry! It took me forever to write and it might be in a slightly different style to normal since I have been doing too much English revision and reading too much poetry.**

Tony and Ziva were the first ones on the bullpen. After a long car journey punctuated with reservations about telling Gibbs, it was a rather disappointing anti-climax.

They sat down behind their desks and began the day's toil of paperwork. They might have found the baby-killer, but the case could not be put to rest until all the paperwork was filled out and filed.

By the time that they had worked through a couple of sheets of paper, they were growing increasingly irritable and impatient. Patience might be a virtue, but at the moment it seemed like the equivalent to waterboarding.

At last, the elevator doors 'dinged' and Gibbs strode into the bullpen. Tony looked up...and looked straight back down again.

Gibbs sat down behind his desk and started on his own paperwork. What dialogue there was would be too benign to write down, so I'll spare you the details.

McGee arrived and took his seat. After about an hour, Gibbs threw his pen down and headed up the stairs towards Vance's office. Ziva excused herself and walked off towards the bathroom.

Tony, glad of the opportunity to talk freely to McGee, abandoned his paperwork as well.

'I need you to cover for me in a while,' he told McGee.

McGee sighed wearily. 'Why?'

Tony adopted a hurt look. 'I'm not going out to buy porn or anything, McGee,' he protested. 'I'm a married man, remember.'

'You aren't married yet,' McGee pointed out, trying to concentrate on what he was writing.

'That's why I need to go out. I have to buy Ziva's ring,' Tony explained.

McGee snorted. 'You are giving up porn to buy a ring?'

Tony frowned. 'No, what? I was never going to buy porn!'

McGee chuckled. Tony threw a pen at his head. McGee sobered up.

'You are really serious about this marriage, aren't you?' McGee asked curiously, not sure whether to be alarmed or impressed.

'Yes,' Tony replied proudly. 'We have decided that it isn't a temporary thing anymore.'

McGee's mouth dropped open. 'What?' he exclaimed.

'I am marrying her for real,' Tony repeated.

McGee stared at him, speechless.

Before Tony could make a joke about McGee being innocent and naive; too young to understand grown-up relationships, Ziva returned.

'He's been dealt with,' Tony told her, jerking his head in McGee's direction. 'Do you want to tackle Abby?'

Ziva reached out and took his hand. 'Why don't we do it together?' she suggested.

Music was blaring out of the door as they approached Abby's lab.

'Abby!' Tony called over the din.

Abby appeared, grinning happily, and waved at them. The music was turned off and she tottered over to them.

'Hi!' she greeted brightly. 'What have you brought me?'

'Aren't we enough?' Tony asked, pouting.

Abby beamed. 'Of course,' she replied, enveloping Tony in a hug. After a few seconds of gasping desperately for air, she released him and eyed him suspiciously. 'You have something to tell me?' she inquired pointedly.

Tony grinned and opened his mouth to tell her, but Ziva jumped in before.

'Would you be my bridesmaid?' she asked.

Abby's mouth opened in a shriek of joy and she flung her arms around Ziva's neck. 'Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,' she cried. 'Thank you, thank you!'

Tony smiled curiously at Ziva. 'When did you decide that?' he mouthed. She shrugged, smiling broadly.

Abby pulled away, relinquishing her death grip on Ziva. 'Are you going with bridesmaids, then?' she asked. 'I mean since it's not a proper...' She clamped a hand over her mouth.

Ziva's eyes lit up. Abby noticed this and narrowed her own eyes. Something was hinky. 'What aren't you telling me?' she asked. Her face broke into a beam. 'You two are actually getting married!' she screamed delightedly.

'Ssshh,' Tony hissed, unable to contain his smile.

'Oh my God,' Abby cried. 'When did this happen?'

Ziva and Tony exchanged glances. 'A few days ago,' Tony admitted.

'And you didn't tell me?' Abby accused, punching his arm.

'Hey,' Tony protested. 'It didn't seem right. We were in the middle of a case and...'

Abby pulled him into another hug, her excitement uncontrollable. Suddenly, she let go and stepped back.

Ziva swallowed, recognising the look in her eyes. The last time she had seen that look, Abby had begun a rant about how much Ziva had hurt Tony by going back to Israel.

'You aren't going to hurt each other, are you?' she demanded. 'Because...' She shook her head, the consequences incomprehensible. 'Then you won't be able to work together and one of you will transfer and the team will be split up again and I don't think that I could deal with that again and the team won't be able to recover and everything will change and I hate change and...'

'Abby,' Tony interrupted soothingly. 'We aren't going to hurt each other.' He squeezed Ziva's arm affectionately. 'I love her too much to do that.'

Abby radiated happiness. 'I'm so pleased for you guys!' she enthused. 'And you'll have kids and bring them into work and I'll be Auntie Abby and Gibbs will be Uncle Gibbs, not Grandpa Gibbs because he would hate that and besides he isn't that old, and McGee can be...'

'Abby,' Tony cut her off again. 'Uh, we have to get back to work.'

Abby's smile only faltered for a second. 'Congratulations,' she called after them.

Tony hurried away from Ziva's desk to pick up his ringing phone.

'Hello?' he answered.

Ziva watched his face pale.

'Yeah. Sorry, Abby. We, uh...I...was getting round to it...Of course, I was going to do it!' Tony listened in silence for a while longer before saying goodbye and hanging up.

'What is it?' Ziva asked nervously.

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. 'Abby called Gibbs to talk to him about it.'

Ziva raised her eyebrows. 'He knows?'

'Yeah. And, apparently, he isn't too pleased that we haven't told him yet.'

Ziva shook her head. 'That you haven't told him yet,' she corrected. 'You were going to tell him since you know him better.'

Tony grimaced. 'I'm not sure if I want to anymore.'

Ziva laughed. 'You never wanted to, Tony,' she pointed out, walking over to him and kissing him. 'But, you will because you know that it is the right thing to do.' She kissed him tenderly on the lips again. 'And you always do the right thing.'

He smiled gratefully, marvelling at her ability to calm him down so easily.

'Go on,' she prodded.

Tony glanced down at his watch. It was just the right time to buy the ring. 'I will,' he promised. 'After the lunch run.' He kissed her cheek and ran towards the elevator before she could argue.

Tony's pocket felt like it was burning. It had a very beautiful, very expensive diamond ring in it which he was terrified of losing.

He remembered the only other time that he had carried an engagement. He hadn't been nearly as nervous yet Ziva had already said yes and he had bought the ring she had already looked at. Rationally, there should be nervousness at all. But his feelings for Ziva weren't rational at all.

She stood up to greet him with a kiss as he walked into the bullpen.

'Where's the lunch?' she asked, frowning at his empty hands.

'I must have left them at the shop,' he improvised, kicking himself inwardly.

She narrowed her eyes, not buying his lame excuse at all.

Ignoring her suspicious glare, he walked around her desk and bent down on one knee. Fishing the ring out of his pocket, he held it out to her. 'Ziva, will you marry me for real?'

She grinned and knocked his hand, flinging the ring into the air. It spun as it fell before falling neatly onto her right hand's index finger. 'It fits perfectly,' she announced.

'Show off.'

She grinned triumphantly at him and studied the ring, murmuring approvingly.

'It's on the wrong finger,' McGee told them as he watched from safe behind his desk.

Ziva scowled at him and pulled it off her finger. 'Which one?' she asked, holding out her right hand.

Tony smiled and took the ring off her, lifting up her left hand. He slid the ring onto the correct finger and kissed the diamond.

'Mrs DiNozzo,' he whispered.

'Now all you have to do is tell Gibbs,' she reminded him, smirking.

He groaned and trudged away, heading down the orange hallway which Ziva pointed to. 'Here goes nothing,' he muttered despondently.

**We are so close to 200 reviews! Go on! Review this chapter before turning to the next...**


	30. The Infamous Rule 12

**Here it is finally! Hope it's ok! It took me five drafts and too many tweaks to count but I've finished it at last.**

Tony stopped in the corridor and leant his forehead against the garish orange wall, breathing heavily.

'Ziva?' The voice came from behind. It was less of question and more of a rhetorical statement. There could be only one reason why Tony would be pressing his forehead to the wall. There could only be one reason why Tony would be avoiding him. There could only be one reason that Tony would even try to have this conversation with him.

Tony did not turn; he did not need to. He knew the voice instantly. He should, he heard it often enough. 'Yeah,' he replied gruffly.

His answer was met by silence and, eventually, Tony's patience broke and he turned around to look at Gibbs. Gibbs was staring at him, obviously waiting for Tony to elaborate.

Tony lowered his eyes. The reactions of the rest of the team had not strengthened his already weak desire to discuss Ziva with his boss.

'Tell me.' Gibbs spoke low and his tone did not give away anything of what was running through his mind.

Tony reluctantly met Gibbs's penetrating stare. 'Abby has already told you...' he began.

'I want to hear it from you.'

Tony shifted between feet, unsettled when faced with the imperturbable calm of his boss. 'It's complicated,' Tony said, after a while, not really answering the question. But, then again, when was a question ever answered bluntly?

'Oh, I know,' Gibbs assured him, some intonation creeping into his voice. Tony thought he could hear some compassion and empathy. It didn't really sound like Gibbs at all. But, then again, this wasn't a conversation he had ever imagined that he would be having with Gibbs. For years, breaking Rule 12 had been a fantasy. Now, it was a reality.

'Does it bother you?' Tony asked. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to any of the possible replies that Gibbs could give.

Gibbs gave nothing but a blank stare.

'Personally or professionally?' Tony expanded, seeing that Gibbs was not going to be frank with him either.

'What's the difference?' Gibbs asked glumly.

Tony hesitated, thrown by Gibbs's negative, almost cynical attitude. 'There will be a difference,' he promised.

'There is no difference,' Gibbs answered his own question, cutting Tony off prematurely.

'It won't interfere in...' Tony protested.

'It will,' Gibbs told him decisively. 'You can't separate the job and the home life...'

Anger bubbled for a second in Tony. 'We aren't you and your many wives, Gibbs,' he snapped.

'Of course not,' Gibbs replied calmly, making Tony regret his momentary outburst. 'Ziva isn't a whiny bitch.'

Tony blinked. Gibbs rarely, if ever, swore. Tony could not come up with anything sensible to say, so he remained tacit.

Gibbs sighed. 'Rule 12 is there for a reason, Tony.'

'What is the reason?' Tony demanded, realising that he might be opening a can of squirming maggots.

'Nothing lasts forever,' Gibbs replied cryptically. 'Especially not in this job.'

'Are you talking from experience?' Tony pressed, thinking of Jenny.

'Emotional attachment: it makes life complicated,' Gibbs answered coolly, rejecting the tin opener offered.

'Everything is complicated,' Tony said, talking to himself more than Gibbs. He leaned back against the wall. 'It doesn't mean you shouldn't try to untangle it.'

'Ziva is more complicated than anyone knows, Tony,' Gibbs warned.

'I won't hurt her,' Tony promised earnestly.

Gibbs sighed. 'The job, Tony,' Gibbs pointed out. '...is dangerous. If you get hurt, that'll hurt her. It's unavoidable.'

'Nothing is inevitable,' Tony murmured, thinking of that gloomy evening down in Autopsy.

'This was,' Gibbs contradicted.

'What was?'

'This conversation has been inevitable for years now,' Gibbs explained. 'What took you so long?'

Tony's mouth fell open, bewildered by the sudden change of tack. 'You...were...expecting this?' Tony asked, almost not daring to voice the question.

Gibbs smiled knowingly. 'Sometimes it's better to keep what you know to yourself.'

Tony shook his head, struggling to comprehend Gibbs's status on a relationship between Ziva and him.

'You can't hurt her,' Gibbs ordered. 'She can't take that.' He paused, the subject of Ziva's fragility carrying a taboo. 'With Ziva, there can't be any second best.'

Tony closed his eyes. 'It's not just me anymore,' he ruminated. Was it fair to enter into a relationship, knowing that it could easily end in your wife being widowed?

'It never was.'

'I love her, Boss,' Tony said flatly. But was that enough?

'I know.'

'I have to do this,' Tony insisted. Could he do that to Ziva?

'You never had a choice.'

Tony shook his head helplessly. 'We've waited too long,' he realised. 'I've screwed everything up.'

'You're making it right now.'

'I was tired of pretending,' Tony explained. Should they have kept up the charade?

Gibbs could still sense the doubt in his eyes. 'So was she,' he reassured Tony. 'You couldn't have kept at arm's length for much longer.'

'Getting divorced would have killed us,' Tony mused, allowing Gibbs's comforting words to soak in.

'Your hand was forced,' Gibbs agreed. 'The choice is clear cut. Either Ziva goes back to being a heartless killer, or she finds love and warmth here, in her family.'

Tony smiled. Put like that, it didn't seem like a very unfair deal to Ziva at all.

Gibbs watched Tony walk away with an unreadable expression on his face. All in all, he was quite pleased with the way that their 'talk' had gone. He could tell that Tony had been dreading this and, truth be told, he had been enjoying watching Tony squirm unnecessarily.

It was important that they didn't hurt each other and, of course, that their friendship managed to survive the trials that marriage and the job threw at it. But, all personal cynicism about marriage aside, he had known that they would have to throw caution to the wind at some point. And, as he neither blind nor stupid, he had had a distinct feeling that this 'fake' marriage would have been the final push needed.

As Gibbs walked after Tony, heading back towards the bullpen, Gibbs felt a pride welling up in him as he realised that he had managed to have a serious conversation with someone which didn't take place in either an elevator or a basement. Quite an achievement.

**Was it ok? Do you agree/disagree? Please tell me!**


	31. Head Slap

**Yes! 200 reviews! Thank you, thank you!**

Tony walked into the bullpen, his head reeling. Gibbs had really had him going for a minute there. But, now that Tony had Gibbs's blessing, he felt liberated from the confines of a secret love. There still seemed to be something missing, however.

He walked straight towards Ziva's desk and leaned over it, cupping her chin and kissing her forcefully. The kiss lasted longer than most and Ziva stood up to return it firmly. His hands snaked around her slender waist and he pulled her closer to him, pressing her legs against the desk.

A sharp crack to the back of the head jerked his lips off Ziva's. He spun round to find Gibbs glaring at him.

'Keep it off the office, DiNozzo,' he growled. 'You're embarrassing McGee.'

Tony rubbed the back of his head with a half-rueful, half-pleased smile. Only now was the Rule 12 talk complete.

Gibbs strode through the bullpen and disappeared round the corner, heading for the elevator down to Abby's lab, leaving his paperwork abandoned on his desk.

Tony sat down behind his own desk and grinned at Ziva across the No Man's Land separating them.

'So,' he asked. 'How does it feel to really be engaged?'

Ziva inspected her ring. 'It feels fine,' she replied nonchalantly.

'Come on,' Tony urged. 'It feels amazing, doesn't it? Especially since you have such a handsome fiancé.'

Ziva chuckled drily. 'So handsome and charming,' she agreed, a slight hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice.

'You aren't too bad yourself,' Tony threw back.

'Is that so?' Ziva shuffled her papers into order and deposited them on Gibbs's desk.

Tony grinned and picked up his papers too, meeting her at Gibbs's desk. His hands crept onto her hips and his eyes gazed down at her seductively.

'You're embarrassing McGee,' Ziva whispered. Her face was so close to Tony's that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek.

'He's a big boy. He can handle it,' Tony replied, lowering his face to level with hers.

Ziva hid her smile ineffectively. 'Gibbs said not in the office,' she reminded him, her lips now only a few inches from his.

'Gibbs isn't here,' Tony pointed out. The gap was closing fast.

'He could come back any minute,' Ziva said quickly, trying to resist the alluring guile of her fiancé.

'Abby will keep him busy,' Tony murmured. He pressed his lips to her, finally dissipating the growing tension in the air. He could taste her salty lips; feel the softness of her tongue. He knew his way around her mouth like his route to work.

McGee ruffled his papers noisily, muttering about finding a NutterButter. Seeing that the kiss could last a while, he got up and hurried out.

Eventually, Tony pulled away and smiled at Ziva. 'He didn't come back,' he told her.

'No, but you embarrassed McGee,' she pointed out.

Tony shrugged. 'I'm planning on making a habit of this so he might as well get used to it sooner rather than later.'

'As long as it doesn't move onto sex in the office,' Ziva accepted.

Tony's eyes sparkled. 'The elevator does have a stop switch,' he mused dreamily.

Ziva rolled her eyes and pushed him away, heading back towards her seat.

Tony followed her, an act that would have looked needy and like a pathetic puppy trailing after its owner if done by anyone else but that seemed perfectly natural when done by the ever-confident Tony.

'What are we doing tonight?' he asked, perching on her desk.

Ziva's eyes flickered upwards. 'Vance is watching us,' she murmured, barely moving her lips.

Tony did not turn round. 'He's still pushing for a rush wedding?'

Ziva nodded, her eyes still focused on Vance. 'He is expecting an invite by the end of the week.'

Tony's eyebrows shot up. 'He's expecting to be invited.'

Ziva laughed. 'Of course. Friend of the father of the bride.' She frowned. 'Put like that,' she accepted. 'It seems a rather vague connection.'

Tony scowled darkly. 'I don't want him at my wedding. He's not a friend of ours.'

Ziva stroked his arm. 'He can sit right at the back,' she placated. 'We don't even need to know that he's there.'

Tony's mood was slightly improved. 'How many more people are we going to be forced to invite?' he asked venomously.

Ziva was taken aback by the spite in his voice. 'Tony, I don't really want Vance there either, but he's our boss and he's a friend of my father's.' She paused, weighing up her next words. 'And, really, it was his idea to get married in the first place.'

Tony snorted. 'I guess I have to add him to my Thank You Letter list.'

Ziva lifted his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. 'I'm sorry, Tony. But he isn't _that _bad, is he?'

Tony's mouth twisted. 'I guess not,' he admitted. 'But I would rather not have him there.' He smiled. 'How many of your father's friends will have to be there?' he asked, repeating his earlier question minus the malice.

'No one else,' Ziva reassured him. 'The list would be long if I was still in Mossad and had a good relationship with my father. But, since we are more or less estranged...' Her voice broke off.

Tony stroked her hair comfortingly. 'What about old friends?' he asked.

Ziva shook her head. 'I haven't been in touch with any of them for years. I don't have many family members either.' She grinned. 'Aunt Nettie will come though. You remember her?'

Tony blushed. 'Yes, um, I think so.'

'What about your friends?' Ziva moved the conversation away from the unfortunate incident with Aunt Nettie. Now that she thought about it, Tony had been trying to make a sweet gesture.

Tony considered. 'A couple of old College friends, some football friends, a few guys from poker...' he listed.

Ziva listened patiently until Tony had finished. 'You have quite a few friends,' she remarked.

Tony smiled. 'Where are we going to have it?' he asked.

Ziva shrugged. 'Well, I guess if Vance is going to be at it anyway, we could have it here,' she suggested.

'I asked at the Barclay Hotel,' Tony told her. 'They do weddings.'

**So, I got in the head slap – see, it pays to be patient. **

**I can't decide where they should have the wedding. NCIS, the hotel, somewhere else... Help?**


	32. Eli Is My Ex Wife

**It's wedding time! Thanks for all your suggestions! It was almost like I was planning a real wedding, you guys were so serious.**

McGee had a goofy grin on his face as he nudged Tony.

'It's almost time,' he hissed.

Tony tried to remain calm but excitement forced a grin onto his face too. 'What did Abby say?' he asked.

McGee blushed. 'Um, well...'

Tony chuckled. 'About where they are, McGee,' he told his embarrassed best man. 'I don't really want to hear about anything else she was saying.'

McGee's cheeks did not lose their pink tinge, which was perfectly understandable considering the things Abby had just said to him. 'They are a few minutes away,' he replied.

Tony smiled nonchalantly but his stomach was twisting up inside him. 'So, they'll be here soon?'

McGee nodded. 'You'll soon be married.'

Tony looked around the small, empty room. 'Where's Gibbs?'

McGee shrugged. 'Shall I call him?'

Tony shook his head. 'He'll be here. He only hates his own weddings.'

'He doesn't hate his own weddings,' McGee protested. Tony raised a dubious eyebrow. 'How can you hate your own wedding?'

'Getting caught up by wedding fever, McGee?' he asked, the implications clear.

McGee flushed furiously. 'No,' he muttered. 'It's just a nice day.'

Tony snorted. 'Now that Ziva and I have taken the plunge, I think that it's time you and Abby hooked up,' he remarked casually.

McGee shook his head, his ears burning a blazing crimson. 'I don't think that Abby is going to be deported anytime soon,' he replied.

'Hey!' Tony objected. 'We would have got round to this at some point without darling Daddy's interference.'

McGee smiled knowingly and turned towards the door. 'Everyone is waiting for you,' he told Tony. 'Everyone you know is in that room.'

'I know a lot more people than that, McGee,' Tony told him. 'But most of them couldn't come. Prisons don't generally let inmates out to attend the wedding of the person who shut them away.' He grinned.

McGee rolled his eyes. 'How many of Ziva's old friends are in there?'

Tony's grin faded. 'Her aunt is here,' he replied. 'And an uncle. The rest of her family is dead.'

'Except her father,' McGee pointed out.

Tony nodded ruefully. 'Except her father,' he agreed.

'Who brought along a lot of bodyguards,' McGee added.

Tony shrugged. 'Ziva didn't want there to be an assassination attempt on her father. Not today at least,' he explained drily.

'Fair enough,' McGee accepted. 'I can understand that.'

'Just like you wouldn't want Abby's stalker to turn up on your wedding day,' Tony teased.

McGee lit up like a Christmas tree once more. 'We aren't getting married,' he muttered.

'You will,' Tony told him decisively. 'Abby is not a patient woman.'

McGee was saved by a beep from his phone. He held it up for Tony to read the text from Abby.

'They're here,' Tony announced.

'They're here,' McGee agreed excitedly.

'They're here!' Tony repeated, his eyes shining.

'They're here,' Abby squealed, running into the back room.

'Where's Ziva?' Tony asked.

Abby frowned. 'It's bad luck to see a bride before the wedding,' she reprimanded.

Tony pouted. 'It _is _my wedding day,' he protested.

'Be patient, Tony,' she ordered, turning away from him. 'You look lovely, McGee,' she enthused.

McGee bit his lip, willing his cheeks not to flare up again.

'Oh, Timmy,' she cooed. 'You've gone red.'

Tony glanced at his watch impatiently. 'How long?' he demanded.

'Give her ten minutes to straighten herself out,' Abby told him. 'Then you can get married.'

'Why don't you go and help her?' Tony begged. 'It will make things go faster.'

Abby laughed. 'Are you worried that she'll get cold feet and run away?' she asked sympathetically.

Tony blushed and shook his head. 'No,' he protested.

Abby threw her arms around him. 'She's as excited as you,' she reassured him enthusiastically. 'I can't believe that you two are finally getting married!'

Tony hugged her back. 'It's only been a month since we told you,' he reminded her.

'I've been waiting for six years,' she told him gravely. 'And now it's finally here!' she added, her squeals almost deafening Tony.

'Have you seen Gibbs?' Tony asked, feeling a little breathless.

Abby released him. 'No, why?' Her face adopted a horrified expression. 'Has he gone missing? He wouldn't miss this. He wouldn't!'

McGee placed a calming hand on her back. 'Of course not, Abby,' he assured her. 'He's probably around here somewhere. I'll go and find him.'

'And you go and help Ziva,' Tony ordered Abby.

Abby beamed at him once more before hurrying after McGee.

Alone at last, Tony found himself at a loss as to what to do. He moved towards the mirror and straightened his tie.

The door opened behind him and Gibbs walked into the room.

'McGee's looking for you,' Tony told him.

Gibbs shrugged. 'No need. I'm right here,' he replied.

'Where have you been?' Tony inquired curiously.

'Here and there,' Gibbs brushed off.

Tony raised an eyebrow and Gibbs relented. It was Tony's wedding day, after all.

'I was talking to Eli,' he admitted.

Tony's eyebrows shot up even higher. 'Eli?'

'Seems he brought an even larger troupe here than we thought,' he revealed.

Tony's jaw fell. 'He's not going to try and take Ziva back to Israel, is he?' he asked, panicked.

Gibbs shook his head, quick to reassure Tony. 'He wanted to be extra sure that nothing interrupted Ziva's big day.'

Tony frowned. 'Doesn't sound like Eli,' he remarked sardonically.

'No,' Gibbs agreed. 'But, I think that he sees that Ziva _really_ doesn't want to go back.' Tony still looked doubtful. 'He still hates you,' he added. 'But he knows that there would be no point in dragging Ziva back to Israel kicking and screaming.'

'What? He's accepted that he's lost Ziva? To a chump like me?'

Gibbs snorted. 'He knows what you're capable of, Tony,' he reminded his agent. 'You took him down in the interrogation in Israel, remember.'

Tony did not smile at the memory. 'A lot has happened since then,' he pointed out. 'Does Eli still hold that against me?'

'He doesn't hold that against you. That is probably your only merit in his eyes,' Gibbs explained. 'Plus, of course, the fact that his daughter is in love with you.'

Tony grinned sheepishly. 'She is never going back to him,' he promised.

Gibbs nodded. 'Good.'

Abby appeared. 'It's time!' she yelled. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Gibbs. 'Gibbs!' she reproached. 'Timmy is looking for you.'

'I'm sorry, Abs,' Gibbs apologised. 'I was trying to get rid of my ex-wife,' he explained. 'She heard that I was going to a wedding and she called up to grill me.' He smirked. 'She thought that I was getting married again.'

Abby grinned and disappeared again.

Tony eyed Gibbs suspiciously. 'I've never heard you lie to Abby before. I thought you were talking to Eli.'

Gibbs chuckled. 'Perhaps Eli is my ex-wife,' he pointed out. Tony, in spite of himself, looked disgusted. 'I _can _multi-task,' he explained.

'Like a woman,' Tony added. 'How do I look?'

Gibbs shrugged. 'I wouldn't know. I was already looking forward to the divorce by this point in the day.'

Tony laughed. 'We aren't going to end up like you,' he told Gibbs gravely. 'This will last.'

Gibbs eyed him. 'I know,' he replied.

**I threw some McAbby in there on request of Chalicewell. Ziva's POV tomorrow, then the wedding. I wouldn't expect too much from the wedding, though, since I haven't been to a wedding since I was five.**


	33. Tony Bought Me Tampons

**They killed Tiva! I HATED Pyramid so much! There was no point in kidnapping Ziva and nobody seemed overly worried. There should have been at least some kind of great reunion of Tony and Ziva. I did love two parts though. When Tony said, 'It's different for some people,' it was like it was another elevator moment! And Kort was AMAZING the whole way through. They definitely need to bring him back more. I can't believe they killed Tiva though! I don't see how they can come back from this. Tony and EJ will become serious, and Ray will give Ziva a box with something in it next time. :( Do they think that ANY fans will be happy by this?**

Ziva's hands were fidgeting in her lap. She was growing restless, waiting for the taxi to arrive at the hotel. How long could a traffic jam be?

Abby was chattering away excitedly beside her, but Ziva wasn't really listening. Every so often she heard snapshots of a delirious rant: 'I can't believe that...It's like fate has...You and Tony are meant...It's so perfect...I can't wait...You look so pretty...This won't end like Gibbs's weddings...Soon, you're going to have babies and...It's so exciting!'

Ziva nodded politely whenever Abby looked over but she was preoccupied with her own thoughts. One irrational fear was overriding everything else. She had a vision of her arriving at the hotel and walking down the aisle, waving at, well, _Tony's _friends, and looking up and seeing an empty space where Tony should be.

'Are you ok?' Abby broke into her daydream concernedly. 'Are you nervous?'

Ziva snorted, laughing off the thought, and shook her head. 'Of course not. I'm fine.'

'You look a bit pale,' Abby pointed out.

'The dress is quite tight,' she replied dismissively. 'And I didn't sleep that much last night,' she added.

Abby grinned. 'I noticed,' she remarked. 'Since you kept me up all night with you.'

Ziva chuckled. 'I enjoyed it, though. We should have more of those.'

'What? Have more pre-wedding sleepovers? That was your last one, Ziva.'

Ziva poked Abby in the ribs teasingly. 'There's always you, Abby,' she remarked suggestively.

Abby shook her head, giggling. 'I'm never getting married,' she announced.

'I would talk to McGee about that,' Ziva told her sagely.

Abby rolled her eyes. 'We're nearly there,' she squealed. 'Look, I can see it!'

Ziva grinned and squirmed impatiently in her seat. All she wanted was to arrive and get married to Tony.

'I'll call McGee and tell them we're almost there,' Abby said, holding her phone to her ear.

Ziva switched off as Abby chattered to McGee. Her eyes were focused on the hotel, barely visible at the end of the road.

'Can't you go any faster?' she begged the taxi driver.

The driver shook his head. 'There's a traffic jam, miss,' he remarked. 'We'd crash into the other cars. I don't want to total me taxi. Not on a Friday.'

Ziva pursed her lips and leant back in her seat, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Abby had insisted that Ziva change into the dress when they arrived so that it did not get crushed in the cramped taxi.

Finally, Abby hung up and turned to Ziva triumphantly.

'Tony is already there,' she imparted. 'He's waiting for you!'

Ziva turned away to stare out the window. 'We aren't there yet,' she pointed out, glaring at the driver's back.

'I'm sorry, miss,' the taxi driver said irritably, noticing her stare in his rear view mirror. 'I'm not destroying my baby so that you can get to a party on time.'

'It isn't a party,' Abby told him, shocked by the insinuation. 'It's her wedding day.'

Ziva sat up and peered past the driver at the long queue of cars. 'Why did we decide to get married on a Friday?' she asked desperately.

'You wanted to get it done as soon as possible and this was the nearest date available,' Abby replied.

Ziva pulled her purse out of her pocket. 'How much do I owe you?' she asked the driver.

'What?' he asked.

'What?' Abby exclaimed. 'We aren't there yet.'

'I'm not wearing my dress,' Ziva reminded her. 'I can run.'

Abby looked down at her own wedding outfit: a short black dress with a net tutu skirt. 'I don't know if I can run, though.'

Ziva eyed Abby's platform shoes doubtfully. 'Of course you can,' she promised. 'I'll hold your hand.'

The driver shrugged and calculated the amount. 'Thirty dollars,' he announced.

'Thirty dollars?' Ziva cried. 'That's ridiculous.'

'There's been a mighty long traffic jam,' he pointed out. 'We've been waiting here for ages with the engine running.'

Ziva sighed and thrust the money at him. 'Have a nice day,' she snapped, clambering out of the door.

They ran along the road, dodging other pedestrians, until they finally reached the hotel.

'We're here,' Abby gasped.

Ziva nodded, pulling her through the doors. 'Come on,' she urged impatiently.

Abby looked at her reflection in the mirror with a look of horror. 'I'm going to have to completely redo my makeup,' she wailed.

Ziva eyed her own reflection. 'Don't tell Tony we're here yet. Wait until we're looking presentable.'

Abby nodded and pulled out a make up bag. 'Girly bonding time,' she announced brightly.

Five minutes later, they were both looking less red and breathless.

'Go tell Tony that we're here,' Ziva told Abby. 'I'll get changed.'

'How long will you be?' Abby asked. 'Shall I say an hour?'

Ziva shook her head, appalled. 'No, I'll need ten minutes,' she replied.

'Ten minutes?' Abby exclaimed. 'But you have to get your dress on and everything!'

Ziva nodded. 'Yes, and that'll take ten minutes.'

Abby was about to protest but she could see that Ziva was desperate to marry Tony as soon as possible so she accepted the time frame and left to find Tony and McGee.

Ziva rescued the dress from its cage in the wardrobe where Abby had left it the evening before. She carefully unzipped the back and stepped into it.

She wasn't quite sure what had possessed her to buy such an elaborate dress. It was going to be a nightmare to get off at the end of the day. Tony might appreciate it when he first saw her but when it came to the time for consummation, he was going to be cursing its difficulty to get off. Maybe he could tear it off her; after all, she wasn't going to be wearing it again.

She pulled it up, easing it gently over her waist and reached over her shoulder to zip it up.

'Maybe I could help?' Gibbs offered.

Ziva smiled. 'Thank you,' she accepted.

He zipped up the dress, moving her hair out the way. 'I have been to a lot of weddings,' he told her. 'Most of them my own, but I don't remember ever feeling quite this excited.'

Ziva laughed. 'You, excited? I don't believe it.'

'Your father seems about as excited as he could get,' Gibbs remarked casually.

Ziva turned around, frowning. 'You've seen my father?'

'Yes,' Gibbs replied. 'He seems to have gotten over his disappointment and not getting you back.'

'He believes that this is real?' she asked.

Gibbs smiled and patted her arm. 'It is real,' he reminded her.

'Gibbs?' she asked tentatively. 'Naturally, my father is walking me down the aisle...' She paused, chewing her lip nervously.

He smiled encouragingly. 'Yes?' he prompted.

She sighed. 'Would you walk on the other side of me?'

Gibbs's eyes softened. 'Of course,' he murmured. 'I'd love to.' Gibbs's phone bleeped. He glanced at the screen and cursed. 'I have to go,' he excused himself.

Ziva smiled at the closing door. The day was going to be perfect.

Abby burst through the door. 'Are you ready?' Her jaw dropped when she saw Ziva. 'You look beautiful,' she squealed.

Ziva twirled. 'Do you think so?'

Abby nodded, speechless for once in her life.

Ziva ran over to her friend and initiated a hug. 'Thank you, Abby,' she whispered. 'I couldn't have done this, anything without you.'

'I'm going to miss you,' Abby murmured.

Ziva laughed. 'It's only for two weeks. Vance wouldn't give us any longer.' Her eyes sparkled. 'But I think that we'll make the most of it.'

Abby squeezed the bride. 'You are going to be so happy with Tony,' she said tearily. 'I can feel it.'

Ziva nodded. 'I have been so happy with Tony,' she replied. 'I can only get happier. We are becoming like a proper couple.' She giggled. 'Last week, he went out to buy me tampons. You should have seen his face!'

Abby snorted with laughter. 'He really loves you,' she remarked.

Ziva nodded. 'That's why we are getting married,' she replied happily.

'So,' Abby asked, her eyes shining. 'Is it time?'

Ziva took a deep breath. 'It's time,' she agreed.

**Ooh, wedding next... Then, the honeymoon! Btw, you all hated Pyramid too, right? I'm not all on my own over here, am I?**


	34. Is Everybody Ready?

**Thanks for all the reassurance. I enjoyed the "debates" I had with many of you. I think that it was about half and half, those who agreed with me about Pyramid to those who still have faith in Tiva. Although I'm pretty sure that EJ will return at some point because of her pulling the chip out of Levin's wrist, I don't think that she is the one that Tony is investigating because she left NCIS at the end of Pyramid so she wouldn't have access to sensitive information.**

**I'm not quite convinced that Tiva is still viable but I'm a little swayed. Perhaps Tiva is just concussed for the moment. But, as lots of you pointed out, Tiva is very much alive and kicking in this story since they are getting married...**

'Ready?' Tony turned round to see McGee grinning at him.

'Ready,' he replied, sure of his answer.

'Ready?' Ziva turned round to see Abby grinning at her.

'Ready,' she replied, sure of her answer.

Tony's heart was pounding in his chest as he waited as the end of the long room, glad of McGee's stabilising presence.

'You actually get to see this one,' Tony whispered. McGee looked at him, not understanding. 'I mean, it isn't broadcast across the internet with you throwing confetti at your computer screen.'

McGee blushed. 'No,' he smirked. 'This time I get to throw confetti _at _you.'

Tony turned back, glancing impatiently towards the door at the other end. 'How long can it take to put on a dress?' he murmured. 'She can't keep me waiting much longer.'

McGee grinned. 'She kept you waiting for six years, Tony. I don't think a few more minutes are going to make a difference.'

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. From this moment onwards, there was no chance of turning back. He didn't want to end up like Gibbs...

Tony frowned, his eyes roaming the room. Where was Gibbs? Tony had asked him to stand beside them at the front. Obviously his boss would not want to be the best man, but it seemed natural to have his mentor standing by him. So where was he?

McGee nudged Tony, bringing his wandering mind back to the matter in hand. The few seconds that Tony was kept waiting were agony. Anything to keep his mind off the impending appearance of Ziva. Was it natural to be this nervous?

He posed the question to McGee.

'Yes,' McGee assured him, after a moment's hesitation. 'You two have relied on each other for so long. You can't screw this up.'

'Thanks, McGee,' Tony snapped.

McGee grinned. 'You know what I mean.' Noticing that Tony really did look nervous, he added, 'You aren't going to screw this up, Tony. You two are meant for each other.'

Tony smiled. 'Thanks, McGee,' he muttered.

'So, where's the honeymoon?' McGee asked curiously.

Tony did not get a chance to reply. The doors opened and Abby walked through, looking very Abbyish in her spunky get up. Tony craned his neck, desperate to see past Ziva's bridesmaid and catch a glimpse of his bride. He hadn't seen her for almost a week.

Abby beamed uncontrollably at Tony, her excitement building.

Then, a shape appeared in the doorway. A white shape.

Abby squeezed Ziva once more. 'I can't believe that this is it!' she cried, her eyes damp.

Ziva nodded weakly. She shared the sentiment. Only a year previous, they had been platonic friends, knowing that there was something incomprehensible there, leaving it to fester, pushing it as far away from the forefront of their lives as possible. Now, she standing outside a room, her hands clammy and her heart hammering, waiting to go in and give her life to her co-worker whom she should not, be Gibbs's rules, even be dating.

Abby's hand was resting on the handle. 'I'm going in,' she announced.

Ziva smiled. That phrase was as common to her as 'On your six, boss,' was to Tony. But, this time, she had no gun and there were no bad people on the other side of the door. Well, not counting the Mossad assassins accompanying her father.

Her father. 'Where's my father?' she asked.

'Here.' Ziva turned to see a Mossad bodyguard standing in front of her.

'Where?' she asked, her tone colder than would be expected of a happy bride.

'Here.' This time her father answered. 'Ziva,' he told her. 'You look beautiful.'

Ziva offered a reluctant smile.

'I never thought that I would see a child live long enough to...' His voice broke off. 'Your mother would be proud of you.'

Ziva nodded. This was not a moment for family bonding. This was a moment for a bond of love between her and her husband as he would be in less than an hour.

Eli took a step forward, proffering his arm. 'Ready?' he asked.

Ziva did not reply. She had answered that question too many times in too short a time. She was not going to humour her father.

'Where's Gibbs?' she asked, directing her question pointedly at Abby.

Abby shrugged, frowning. 'In there, I guess,' she replied.

Ziva shook her head. 'He's walking on the other side of me,' she explained. 'He should be _here_.'

Abby raised her eyebrows, her eyes shifting towards Eli's face. He seemed calm enough, but his unreadable face unnerved her.

Gibbs appeared. 'You look beautiful, Abbs,' he commented, kissing the top of her head. 'You ready, Ziva?' he asked.

Ziva smiled and held out her arm. 'Ready, Gibbs,' she replied surely.

'Eli,' Gibbs greeted for the second time that evening.

'Gibbs,' Eli returned.

Abby placed her hand back on the handle. 'Ok,' she asked. 'Is everybody ready now?'

Ziva looked at each of her escorts in turn. All the people she cared about most were either with her, or on the other side of the door. Well, all the people who were alive, and not all the people were liked, but it was mainly true. It was as close to perfection as an ex-assassin could get.

'You stay out here,' Eli ordered his bodyguard. The man nodded.

A glare passed over Gibbs's face and Ziva rolled her eyes at her father's insistence on not letting anyone forget about their overarching purpose in life: to protect their country at any cost to their own lives.

Abby sighed. She was really getting impatient. 'Ready?' she asked, hopping from one foot to the other.

'Go, Abbs,' Gibbs allowed.

Abby opened the door.

**I have just finished watching the finale of NCIS:LA and the difference between Familia and Pyramid was huge. Familia had a proper plot with actual action, whereas Pyramid fell flat. NCIS:LA is catching up fast with the original NCIS. It hasn't overtaken yet but...**

**I'm so grateful for Psychoville right now. Without it, I would have nothing to watch in my breaks from revision. And, honestly, I prefer Psychoville to NCIS. Next episode tonight! Nobody reading this will have a clue why I am so excited but, if you watched Psychoville, you would. Hint, hint...**


	35. I Now Pronounce You Husband And Wife

**Retraction: I take back my previous authors note. It could well be EJ who Tony is investigating. I'm sorry if I angered you. The response was much more virile than before. Sorry!**

**Also, I have no idea what people say at weddings so I watched a couple of TV weddings but this might be completely off.**

Tony's mouth stretched so wide that he thought it would break through his skin, Wallace and Gromit style. He had Ziva in some beautiful dresses over the years but none could surpass this one. Perhaps it was just the significance of the dress, or perhaps it was the new way that he was looking at her. For once, he was allowed to 'google' her. And, any pictures that he put up could not be taken down. He was allowed to do the things that he had had to do in secret for the rest of his life now.

Ziva held her breath as Abby walked forward, not daring to imagine the look on Tony's face. She caught a glimpse of his sleeve peeking out from behind Abby and she shut her eyes tightly. Gibbs noticed this, and squeezed her arm reassuringly. Eli kept his eyes focused on the front, probably disgusted at the lack of Rabbi. Abby moved forward enough to give the bride a full view of her groom. Gibbs nudged her and her eyes popped open.

Tony grinned at Ziva as she approached him. He held out his arm and let out the breath he had been holding when she took it. They were really doing this. He took the bottom of her veil in his hand and drew a deep breath, preparing himself for seeing his bride's face, before lifting it up. He grinned at her. She returned a shy smile. Obviously, she had been as nervous as him. She stepped up and moved next to him, her hip just touching his. He glanced past her, seeing Eli move off to his seat, surrounded by Israelis dressed in black with concealed guns. Gibbs, instead, moved across to stand next to Tony, leaving only Family Gibbs at the front, together.

Ziva stepped up next to Tony, her mind blank at the sight of him. After a week of agonising separation, they were going to be joined forever. She beamed, scanning her friends at the front. The people she cared about most were surrounding her, supporting her, and the man she loved more than herself was holding her hand beside her. Nobody could ruin this.

'_Mr DiNozzo, Miss David_,' the registrar said, bringing all attention off the couple.

'Not for much longer,' Tony muttered.

Ziva's face lit up at the idea and she squirmed beside him.

They turned to the front, tearing their eyes off each other.

'_Marriage is an important thing; it binds people together for eternity. They must promise to look after each other and trust each other for the rest of their lives.'_

Ziva glanced at Tony out of the corner of her eye. With anyone else, she would be having second thoughts at the mere mention of trust. But, with Tony, she had no qualms. She trusted him with her own life, she trusted him with _his _life. And, she was definitely ready to look after him for the rest of their lives. She had his back; she always had.

'_Marriage requires a deeper love than any other partnership. It requires you to be willing to give up your life to share it with another.'_

Tony smiled to himself. They had both proved to each other that they were more than willing to give up their lives for each other, metaphorically and literally. He couldn't live without her; he had found that out a long time ago. Being without her was like a rift had split his heart in two. His love for Ziva went deeper than he had ever imagined possible.

'_To make a marriage work, there must be communication. You must open up your hearts to the other and let the in, fully revealing your darkest secrets.'_

Ziva smiled lazily. Tony had a way of worming secrets out of her. It would almost be a shame to waste those secrets by offering her thoughts to him. But, she didn't _want_ to have any more secrets. Secrets were what had pulled them apart before. She vowed never to let anything drive a wedge between them and she fully intended to keep that promise.

'_Let others share in your happiness. Live your life with the person you love most, surrounded by the people who you care for the most.'_

Tony shifted closer to his bride. In a few minutes, she would be his _wife_. They were together, encircled by everyone they loved. And, this was how it was going to be for the rest of their lives, they had wasted enough years.

'_A wedding is just one day but it signifies the beginning of the rest of your life. Having someone you trust and share everything with is a blessing. By joining yourselves, you are accepting that blessing and holding onto it.'_

Ziva nodded, feeling the meaning of the words. Every day, she thanked God for allowing her to leave her old family and be embraced by her new one. For so long, she had been taunted by the happiness of others. Love had been something for others; reality for the lucky few, an unattainable mirage for her. But Tony wasn't a mirage. She had walked slowly towards him, wary to throw herself at him and fall straight through. Finally, she had reached him and stuck a petrified finger into the image, only to find that he was completely real. This was real and she accepted it with all her heart.

'_Do you, Anthony DiNozzo, take Ziva David to be your wife?'_

'I do.' Tony did not hesitate. Not only did he know what the answer was, but he did not need to take a breath. He was impatiently waiting for Ziva to be declared his wife. It couldn't come soon enough. Things had always been thrown their way but being married would build a wall around them, protecting them from her father, their job, and anything else which tried to break them down.

'_Do you, Ziva David, take Anthony DiNozzo to be your husband?'_

'I do.' No frills, no giggling. The quicker the formalities were over, the sooner they could be officially married. They had waited patiently for six years but, now that the time had actually arrived, they needed it to be done so that nothing else could come between them. Their love was strong but it had been strayed from its course so many times that it still seemed fragile and unsteady on its feet. Marriage would be transplant it needed to continue its life with no more problems.

'_Exchange rings.'_

They lingered a second before turning round, feeling the electricity coursing through them before they broke the circuit and turned to their respective best friend.

Abby's cheeks were damp with tears as she handed Ziva the ring. Ziva took it, squeezing Abby's hand excitedly. In a couple of seconds, their love would be official.

McGee held out the ring. Tony took it, nodding gratefully at McGee's silent reassurance.

They turned back round, facing each other. Two sets of eyes bored into each other, two hands reached out and tentatively touched, two rings were slid onto two fingers: two people gave themselves to each other.

The vows were silent. They felt no need to share their innermost feelings with a room full of people, many of which were nameless bodyguards. They would express their love for each other in words later, while they lay panting on the bed side-by-side. For now, their sentiments were shown by a quick smile and a lingering gaze.

'_I now pronounce you husband and wife.'_

Tony's heart leapt. They were finally untouchable. Six years of dancing round each other had catalysed this happiness. He held onto the moment with all his strength. The woman standing next to him was his. And he was hers.

Ziva clenched her jaw, not wanting her head to explode in ecstasy. All the waiting was over. They had broken down all the walls built between them by themselves and by others, and were finally tethered together.

'_You may kiss the bride.'_

He did. Lips kept separated for a week jerked together with a ferocious passion. Tongues tied for six years, holding back the three words they longed to say clashed in a fiery duel. Hands clean from the other's sweat clutched at suit material and satin.

Eventually, seeing that the windows were about to steam up, McGee poked Tony in the back. Slowly, Tony pulled away.

'Mrs DiNozzo,' he murmured.

She grinned. 'Mr and Mrs DiNozzo,' she corrected.

Tony took her hand and lifted it above their heads. 'We're married,' he cried triumphantly.

The majority of the congregation laughed, Tony's friends and family. The handful of Ziva's guests either smiled politely or, in the case of Director Eli David, stared stonily ahead. Tony sought his father's face in the crowd. Tony DiNozzo Snr looked distinctively proud of his son.

**Ah, they're finally married. Reception, consummation, honeymoon...**


	36. Cupids And Skulls

Walking down the centre of the room, rows of friends branching out from the walkway, Tony felt as though he might burst. Holding Ziva's hand, tightly, as if she was planning a getaway, he grinned impishly at certain friends who were holding up their thumbs and laughing.

He leant over to whisper in Ziva's ear. She nodded, laughing, and kissed his forehead.

'Yes, Tony,' she smiled. 'Whatever you want.'

Tony's eyes shone then and the pace of his procession increased.

Gibbs, McGee and Abby all followed behind the newlyweds. Gibbs had the faintest trace of a proud smile on his face, his hand rested comfortingly on Abby's shoulder. Abby's cheeks were damp with happiness and she rubbed uselessly at her eyes, feeling slightly over-emotional. Even the bride herself was not crying, yet Abby was prone to expressing her feelings profusely. McGee was walking on her other side, holding her hand. Every so often, he caught her eye and grinned, his face lighting up like Christmas lights.

Tony hastily pulled ahead of Ziva, knowing that she would be aware that her father's bodyguards would be standing on the other side of the door, poised to shoot. It was the kind of thing that she would do, to kick the door open, federal agent-style, and alarm them into shooting. He didn't want to become a widower before he had even had the chance to consummate the marriage. Come to think of it, he didn't plan on becoming a widower until they were both retired and had seen at least eight decades come and go.

Frowning, he realised that their decision not to say vows in front of everyone had excluded 'Till death do us part,' from the ceremony. Not that he was complaining; that was a thought that did not need to be planted in their minds at what should be the happiest moment of their lives. Even if, as Gibbs had so sagely pointed out, death was a major possibility, there was no need to remind themselves unnecessarily.

He led Ziva through the door and pulled her out of sight, round the corner. Pulling her into an all-enveloping hug, he muttered illicit promises into her ear. That night was going to be one to remember, although perhaps not one to tell their grandchildren about.

Ziva pulled away, noticing Gibbs, McGee and Abby approaching. Tony smiled, grateful for her ninja senses. Gibbs had given their relationship, sorry, marriage, a blessing but they did not need to push their luck and tell him all the details about their sex life.

'Well, that went well,' Tony remarked cheerily.

Gibbs clapped Tony on the back. 'You did good, DiNozzo,' he said, before turning to Ziva. 'You too, DiNozzo.'

Ziva beamed at the new name.

'Agents DiNozzo and DiNozzo,' Tony drawled.

'What movie is that from?' Abby asked.

Tony grinned and pulled Ziva into his body. 'No movie,' he replied dreamily. 'Although it will probably be as exciting as one.'

Ziva groaned. 'You mean that we are going to be watching non-stop movies?'

'No,' Tony answered, hurt. 'We will more interesting things to do than watch movies.'

'You won't have time once Ziva starts popping out little DiNozzos,' Abby remarked, her eyes still glistening.

Ziva grimaced. 'We have no plan to start…pooping out little DiNozzos.'

Tony snorted. 'You certainly won't be _pooping_ out any babies, Ziva,' he agreed fervently. '_Popping_ is a different story.'

Ziva rolled her eyes and moved past the potentially awkward conversation.

'Mr and Mrs DiNozzo,' McGee interjected. 'Would you like to come this way?'

Tony raised his eyebrows. 'Are you trying to be a waiter, McGee, or just annoying?'

Ziva punched Tony's arm reproachfully. 'Today is a day of goodwill, Tony,' she scolded.

Tony took her hand in his. 'That's Christmas,' he corrected.

Chatter erupted from the doorway and people began to spill out into the corridor.

'Where is the reception?' Tony asked McGee.

The best man shrugged. 'Abby organised everything,' he defended.

'Abby?' Tony prompted.

Abby pinched McGee's suit sleeve and dragged him down the corridor, leading the way. Tony raised his eyebrows and followed, clasping Ziva's hand. Gibbs glanced back at the advancing swarm of guests and shuddered, the scene reminiscent of his own, many, weddings.

'So, Ziva, what is waiting for us in here?' Tony asked. At Abby's request and Gibbs's strong advice, he had left the planning up to Ziva.

Ziva blushed. 'I have no idea, Tony,' she admitted. 'I got confused after an afternoon. Abby did everything.'

Tony laughed and squeezed her shoulders. 'So this is a complete surprise to both of us?'

Ziva nodded. 'I'm not sure how surprising it could be, though,' she remarked. 'I mean Abby would not have…' She broke off as Abby pushed open the door ahead of them.

Tony's jaw dropped open. 'What the–' he exclaimed, laughing. Ziva peered round McGee and choked out a laugh too.

On the far wall was a huge picture of Tony and Ziva, laughing together in the bullpen. Red helium balloons in either a heart shape or a bat shape were tied to each chair. The table cloths were crimson as well, more the colour of blood than of Valentine's Day. The floor space cleared for dancing was huge and strobe lights were swinging across the floor, flashing red and yellow intermittently.

Elaborate candlesticks were dotted around the room, unlit black wax candles in each. A black guitar decorated with skulls was propped against the stage and cables criss-crossed the raised floor, connecting multiple amps with the electricity needed to blast all the guests away. Confetti had already been strewn across the floor. Tony bent down and picked up a couple. One was in the shape of a Cupid, the other shaped like a skull and crossbones.

'You did know that Ziva's father was coming, right?' Tony inquired.

Abby nodded and spread her arms wide. 'What do you think?'

Ziva giggled. 'I love it, Abby,' she cried.

Tony frowned, surprised by her response. 'Really?' he asked incredulously.

Abby's grin faded. 'Why? Don't you like it, Tony?' she asked, hurt.

Tony shook his head vehemently. 'No, no, Abby,' he assured her. 'I love it. It just isn't quite what I imagined Ziva would like.' He looked expectantly at Ziva who shrugged.

'I am not uptight,' she protested. 'And, anyway, it's our wedding. It's meant to be fun.'

Tony took her hand. 'And Daddy David?' he inquired.

'This is not for him,' she replied haughtily.

Tony grinned. 'Well, then, wife, will you dance with me?'

**This is all dragging out longer than I expected... If you don't mind, though, neither do I. Do you mind?**


	37. Dancing Queen

**I'll just start off with a little advertisement/public announcement. I have started a new NCIS story, The Assassin's Dentures. Read it, please! I promise to keep updating this with the same regularity though.**

Abby hurried over to the CD player on a chair in the corner and hit play. Music blasted through the speakers and filled the room.

Tony had been expecting music in tandem with the decor but, instead of Abby's usual fare, gentle music left the speaker. After a moment's pause to stomach the departure from what he had been expecting, Tony took Ziva's hand and led her onto the dance floor.

She eyed him, wondering how they were going to approach it; whether it was going to be a traditional first dance or, in keeping with their somewhat odd surroundings, improvise.

He smiled broadly at her and took her waist. She swept off her feet as he danced her round the space, now ringed with a mob of guests watching them. Their eyes remained firmly locked on each other's as she was twirled, spun and lifted.

Halfway through the lullaby-esque song, Ziva tightened her hold on his waist and took the lead, swapping the roles. He let her take control and followed where she led him, entranced by the light in her eyes.

Her dress was not so big that he tripped over it and, for this, Ziva thanked Abby profusely afterwards.

Pressed close together, Ziva got to feel Tony in one of his trademark expensive suits. Obviously, she had brushed up against him in one but she had never been allowed to hold him for so long while he was wearing one. Most of time that they were touching each other, they were naked and there was no material to grab hold of, only damp flesh.

The song ended and Tony pulled Ziva in, even closer, and hugged her, breathing deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck and found herself lifted off the ground and carried in his arms through the crowd of guests.

Abby smiled proudly at her happy couple, laughing in the wonderland she had created for them, and ran onto the stage. She took up the microphone and tapped it, wincing at the shrill whine that came from the speakers.

'Welcome,' she greeted, causing all the guests to look up at her. She beamed at them. 'Welcome to Tony and Ziva DiNozzo's wedding.' Tony cheered at the name and squeezed Ziva's hand. She rolled her eyes at his childishness but there was a smile on his face.

Abby grinned at him. 'I hope you like the...' She gestured at the room and the guests all followed the direction of her arm, their gaze lingering on the huge picture of the married couple. '...decoration and there will be a band coming in later to play. But for now, we have CDs.' She hopped off the stage and turned the music back on. The next song was less dreamlike but was still not quite up to Abby's usual tastes.

Tony pulled Ziva onto his lap. 'What did you think of my dancing skills?' he asked.

She twisted round to face him, her legs either side of his body. 'I never knew you could dance like that,' she admitted, eyeing him suspiciously.

He grinned. 'I had lessons,' he revealed confidentially, placing a shushing finger to his lips.

'When you were younger? You never told me.'

He shook his head. 'No, recently,' he corrected. 'When we first got engaged, before it was real. I wanted; I want this to be absolutely perfect.'

She smiled and kissed him lightly. 'It is perfect,' she assured him. 'It could not be anything less.'

He grinned and stood up, catching her before she hit the floor. 'Another dance?' he offered.

She raised an eyebrow. 'You aren't going to start showing off now, are you?' She held out her hand and they walked back onto the dance floor.

Other couples dribbled slowly out of the crowd to join them and soon the room was filled with the stamp of shoes, the click of heels and gay laughter. Tony and Ziva's laughs were loudest of them all.

McGee sidled up to Abby, who was watching the proceedings with a gleeful smile. He held out his hand and asked, 'Do you want to dance?'

She glanced down at the CD player, weighing up the possible consequences of leaving her post. She took being in charge of her best friends' wedding very seriously indeed. 'Yes,' she decided. They moved out and joined the undulating mass in the centre of the room.

Eventually, Ziva and Tony looked at each other, their cheeks red and their chests heaving, and mutually agreed to have a rest. Still holding hands, they retreated to the tables at the back of the room.

They sat down, joining Ducky and Gibbs. 'Not dancing?' Tony remarked.

Gibbs fixed him with a glare.

Ducky leaned over and tapped Ziva's arm. 'You look very beautiful, my dear,' he told her.

She flushed pink and smiled. 'Thank you,' she murmured, pleased.

Tony kissed her cheek. 'You _do _look very beautiful,' he agreed, whispering into her ear.

'Thank you,' she mouthed before turning to Gibbs. 'Thank you,' she told him sincerely, 'for walking with me.'

He nodded. 'It was my pleasure.' He stopped, thinking of his daughter. It had almost felt like he had fulfilled his role as father of the bride even if that role was taken up by... 'Speaking of the devil,' he muttered to himself as Eli approached their table.

'It is an interesting choice of decoration,' he remarked, seating himself next to his new son-in-law.

Ziva smiled, although it could easily have been construed as a smirk. 'You have Abby to thank for that,' she replied.

A bodyguard moved up behind Eli and muttered something in his ear. Eli turned to him and muttered something back. The whole table watched with interest. The bodyguard moved off and Eli turned back to face his daughter's guests.

'The room is secure,' he told them.

Ziva smiled weakly, not entirely grateful for being reminded of her father's job at such a time, and excused herself. Tony followed her and soon they were dancing again.

**Reception Part II tomorrow. And do read my other story...**


	38. Suicide Commando

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I had my English Lit Paper this morning and I was revising. Ugh, who am I kidding? I wasn't revising – I was feeling guilty about not revising and when I feel guilty, I generally end up doing nothing. Sorry. I will resume my daily updates starting from now, though.**

Ziva moaned contentedly as she stared out across the city, with her head leaning against Tony's chest.

'You have fun tonight?' he murmured.

She nodded slowly. 'The best night of my life,' she told him.

A lazy grin spread across his face. 'It's only going to get better,' he assured her.

They stood in silence for a few more minutes.

Ziva broke the silence: 'He didn't ruin it, did he?'

Tony's face contorted in concern and, lifting her chin up to face him, he shook his head reassuringly. 'Nothing could spoil it,' he promised.

Ziva smiled shyly and sighed, her mind flooding with memories of the reception.

'_So, we finally get to meet the girl who managed to tame the beast,' a voice called. A man was lurching towards her. She smiled politely and moved off in search of 'the beast,' her new husband Tony. She still got a fluttering inside her when she called him that. Her husband._

'_Where is Tony?' Ziva glanced over her shoulder to find the man following her through the crowd. He was stumbling – evidently drunk – and he had an ugly leer on his face._

'_How do you know Tony?' she asked quietly, staring around her, searching for Tony._

_He grinned. 'I was his wingman,' the man drawled. 'Back in '97, we used to prowl the streets for chicks.' He belched. 'I guess Tony won't need me for that anymore,' he said, resentment creeping into his voice._

_Ziva smiled graciously and started walking away again. The man trailed after her._

'_We used to drink too much, you know that?' he continued. 'Tony was an animal when he was drunk.' The man giggled and Ziva wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'Why would you want a man like that, sweetheart?' the man accused._

_Ziva spun round. 'I am married to him now,' she said haughtily. 'So, obviously the 'wanting' is mutual.'_

_He snorted derisively. 'He never even talks about you, darling. If he wanted you he would talk about you, wouldn't he?' His words were running into each other._

_Ziva stepped neatly away from him. 'I have to go now,' she told him firmly._

_She turned to walk away but he grabbed her arm. 'It won't last, you know,' he persisted urgently. 'He will just dump you.'_

_Ziva's eyes flashed and she pushed the man away from her. 'It will last,' she assured him flatly._

_He spat at her, the gob missing her dress by inches._

_She drew a deep breath and spun on her heel, leaving the situation before it got out of hand._

_He didn't let her get away, though. Stumbling to his feet, he staggered after her, his voice rising to a shout. 'He's just going to hurt you! He'll cheat on you!' He grabbed Ziva's arm again but, instead of pushing him away, she took his arm and twisted it behind his back._

'_It will last, you'll see,' she snarled through gritted teeth._

_Then, the situation got out of hand._

_Two of Eli's bodyguards stepped up behind the man and one, wrenching his arm from Ziva's grasp, jerked it upwards. There was a crack as the bone splintered and the man turned pale, screeching in pain. The other bodyguard drew back his fist before pounding the man's nose with such force that blood came out, as if a dam had burst._

_Ziva pulled the hem of her dress out the way of the cascade of red. 'Stop!' she cried. 'He wasn't going to do anything!'_

_Her father's bodyguards ignored her protests and dragged the man through the crowd by his shoulders. Eli followed them, not giving his daughter even a glance._

_Ziva frowned, aligning her thoughts. Tony hurried up beside her._

'_What happened?' he asked breathlessly._

'_My father has taken one of your guests, your old wingman, outside,' she told him flatly._

_Tony groaned. 'I told him not to get drunk. What did he do?'_

_Ziva shrugged. 'He was just rather pushy, insisting that we weren't going to last.'_

_Tony sighed and wrapped his arm round Ziva's bare shoulders. 'He's just gone through a messy divorce, wanted us to get back together and continue where we left off.' He grimaced apologetically. 'He can be quite aggressive when he wants to be.'_

_Ziva shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Tony,' she whispered. 'I don't know what my father is doing to him.'_

_Tony squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. 'He'll be fine,' he said dismissively. 'And it isn't your fault.'_

_Ziva shrugged his arm off. 'I'd better go get him out.'_

_Tony nodded. 'Do you want me to come?' he called after her._

_Ziva turned back and shook his head. 'He's my father,' she pointed out._

'_He's my guest,' Tony shot back, hurrying after her. 'I'm coming.'_

_Ziva smiled gratefully and took his hand in hers._

_Pushing open the door, they found Eli pinning the man to the wall. _

'_What were you doing to my daughter?' he shouted._

'_Nothing,' the man insisted, trembling and shooting nervous glances at the men blocking the doorway._

_Ziva pushed through the wall of bodyguards. 'He wasn't doing anything,' she interrupted._

_Eli did not turn to look at her. 'This is your wedding day, Ziva. I am here to protect you.'_

_Ziva sighed. 'I do not need protection. People here do not see me as the daughter of Mossad, a threat to be dealt with. I am just Ziva; friend and wife.' She shook her head. 'He does not have a gun. It is nothing to do with you.'_

_Tony stepped forward. 'That's my friend you are holding against the wall,' he pointed out. 'Release him please.'_

_Eli glared at Tony but, seeing the plaintive look on Ziva's face, he stepped back and gave the man his neck back._

_Ziva nodded and thanked her father. Tony shot his 'wingman' a look of contempt before taking Ziva's hand and returning to the reception._

'_I'm sorry about my father, Tony,' Ziva murmured._

_He shook his head. 'You don't control him, Ziva.' He nodded towards his friend, now standing placidly against the wall, holding a glass of water in a shaky hand. 'And, anyway, it probably did him a world of good.'_

_Ziva smiled. 'Another dance?'_

'Water?' Ziva turned round to find Gibbs holding out a glass of water.

'Thank you,' she smiled.

'Did you enjoy it?' Gibbs asked, joining the newly weds.

Tony nodded. 'We're married,' he grinned. 'What's not to enjoy?' He smiled and excused himself, hurrying through the orange walls to the men's bathroom.

Ziva turned to Gibbs. 'Do you want to dance?' she offered.

He laughed. 'Here?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes,' she replied. 'I'm sure that the iPod Abby gave you ages ago is around here somewhere.'

She hurried round his desk and began rooting around in his drawers.

'You know,' Gibbs remarked. 'You didn't have to follow me here.'

Ziva grinned. 'You can't leave our wedding early to catch up on paperwork,' she told him firmly. 'And, anyway, I think that it was almost over.' She pulled the iPod out of the topmost drawer triumphantly. 'Found it!'

Gibbs frowned. 'I still have it?'

She turned it on and shook her head amusedly. 'I think that Abby put some of her favourite songs on here,' she remarked. 'You feel up to slow dancing to Suicide Commando?'

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. 'Suicide Commando?'

She grinned. 'You can tell it was Abby, can't you?'

He stepped into the middle of the bullpen. 'Put it on.'

She nodded and stuck it into Gibbs's computer. Loud music instantly filled the NCIS pumpkin.

Ziva stepped round his desk and joined him in the No Man's Land between the four desks. She put her hand on his waist and looked up, smiling.

When Tony returned from the bathroom, he found his wife and his boss slow dancing to Suicide Commando.

**Again, sorry that I didn't update yesterday. I feel bad. And, fire4wd, you got your Gibbs and Ziva dance. I hope you're happy. **


	39. Consummation

**Another sex scene...because I know how much you love Tiva sex and you know how much I love writing it!**

She kissed him, raking her fingers through his hair, their bodies collapsing together on the bed. She tore his shirt off him, the buttons flying off around the room. Pulling her own shirt over her head, she clambered on top of him, her eyes boring into his.

He leaned up and wrapped his hands around her neck, pulling her into him. Their chests were touching, and she could feel his heartbeat pounding as she kissed him, their mouths melding together.

His hands ran up and down her arms, leaving tingling trails. Her own hands pressed down on his chest, keeping her head up so that she could see the effect she was having on him.

Finally, she gave in to his silent pleas, and allowed him to slide into her. She moaned in pleasure, nibbling his ear. Her breathing was laboured and his hot breath condensed on her cheek, their exertion tiring him. She rode him, straddling him with a leg on each side. She was rough and vigorous, her energy potent.

Groaning, he rubbed himself against her, slipping in and out of her like a well oiled piston. His thigh was wet with her warm, damp juice. Every so often, he would have to wipe it off with his fingers. Her body was alive and she was yearning for just a few more seconds of this erotic passion.

However, his kisses became sloppier as he grew more exhausted and, eventually, she stopped and rolled off him, letting his weary body rest.

They lay beside each other, their chests rising and falling in tandem, his hand crept closer to hers and he entwined their fingers.

'I love you, Ziva,' he murmured, his voice slightly raspy from all the heavy breathing and guttural groaning.

She smiled and rolled over to face him. Their faces were inches apart. 'I love you too,' she replied simply.

He puckered his lips and pushed his face forward. She made up the extra few centimetres by shuffling closer and kissing him gently. His lips held on to hers, not wanting to let go. He was _so _tired but, boy, did he love her. He sighed softly and kissed her again.

She reached her hand beneath the sheet and cupped his cock. 'So...?' she wheedled. 'Will you tell me yet?'

Tony grinned. 'Tell you what?' he asked innocently.

'Where we are going on our honeymoon,' she told him, raising her eyebrows.

He shrugged, smiling blandly and infuriatingly.

Ziva tightened her grip on his penis. He stiffened in her hand. 'Ah, you like that?' she remarked.

He shook his head. 'No, no, it does nothing for me,' he insisted unconvincingly.

She laughed. 'Are you going to tell me next that that is your knee?'

Tony leaned over and kissed her, distracting her from turning him on. He bit down on her bottom lip. She moaned and fingered his tip.

'I thought we had finished,' Tony whispered hoarsely.

Ziva eyed him. 'You don't really want to, do you?'

The corners of his mouth twitched, forming a half-smirk. She took this for a negative answer and ran her fingers along the underside of his dick.

He chuckled and put his hands behind her head, guiding her towards his lips. He wanted her. God, he wanted her. And, now, he could have her.

Their sex life had not dwindled with time. It could be argued that they had been having sex for years and years, just not physically. Fantasies had been lived in wet dreams and boundaries had been crossed before they had even seen the other's naked body. They knew their way around each other's bodies instinctively; now they just got to actually touch and feel and breathe and kiss and do all the other things that they had been imagining since they met.

He flipped her over so that she was underneath him, submissive, and came down, pushing into her. Her head fell back and she screamed erotically.

Tony grinned, hearing Ziva's straightforward admission to him all those years ago that she was a screamer. She had proved that now. Twice, _twice_, his neighbours had complained about the noise their bedposts made banging against the wall in the month leading up to the wedding.

Things had been consolidated, their relationship had become stronger, built on steadier foundations, and able to stand up to the test of the dangers that work threw at them. They fitted and they would continue to fit.

He might lose her at any time, and she might lose him, but they were both better off for having known each other. It was better to live for a while than procrastinate forever.

His movements slowed and she stared down at him. 'Are we consummated yet?' she inquired lightly, her words burdened with meaning.

He nodded. Yes, yes, yes. They were definitely officially married; bound together legally, emotionally, literally, metaphorically, physically and mentally. They were in love.

She sat up and lifted her leg over his body so that she was sitting beside his head on the bed. Her hand caressed his cheek. 'Thank you,' she said, no intonation in her voice.

He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes. 'For what?'

She smiled to herself and shrugged. 'Oh, you know, this and that.' She grinned down at him.

He nodded. 'Any time,' he replied softly.

She stood up and crossed to the window. 'Is there a reason we are spending our first night as a married couple in your...'

Tony rolled on to his front. 'Our,' he stressed. 'You've lived here for months now, you should think of this as your home.'

She chuckled and nodded. 'Ok, fine. Why we're spending our first night as a married couple in _our _apartment?'

Tony crawled onto his knees, his butt sticking into the air. 'Yes,' he answered simply. 'This is our home, where we spend every day. Why not spend the most special evening of our lives here?'

Ziva turned to face him. 'Fair enough,' she agreed.

He cocked his head, still on his knees and elbows. Ziva walked slowly over to him, making him watch every step with avid eyes. She stopped, her crotch in front of his face. Tony held his breath in anticipation. She was not wearing any knickers...

His tongue darted out between his lips. She tutted disapprovingly. 'Have I not satisfied you yet?'

Tony was either not satisfied or too horny to contain himself for he kept licking. Ziva rolled her eyes, masking her growing excitement. She was going to be wet any minute if he kept going. Leaning over him, she spanked his wiggling buttocks.

Tony's head jerked up in shock, almost colliding with her vagina. Ziva chuckled. 'Have I satisfied you now?'

Tony began to laugh. He crawled out from in between her legs and pulled her down beside her.

They lay in complete, companionable silence, staring up at the plain ceiling. It was just as they had done almost every night for the past few months but something seemed different now. Something had changed.

'I love you, you know that?' he said quietly.

She smiled in the growing dusk. 'Good night, Tony.'

**I was in a horny mood, as you can (hopefully) tell. I have just finished a film spree with my friends – three Leonardo DiCaprio films in six hours. He should definitely have lived in 1950's America. The clothes suit him so much. Revolutionary Road was not as good as I expected, however. I did watch it straight after Shutter Island, though, which probably raised my expectations too high. *sighs girlishly* Daniel Craig comes tomorrow...**


	40. Jet Lag

**This might be quite short. I was planning on doing a very long honeymoon one for the 40****th**** chapter – big occasion – and reaching 300 reviews – congratulations to Spotty Lune the 300****th**** reviewer – but I got distracted. Physics is a bitch and The Wire is too good to stop watching. I got through five hour long episodes today. Shows how much of a life I have. This chapter might also be of normal length – I'll see how it goes.**

'Tony,' Ziva whined. 'Does this really need to be a secret?'

Tony smiled and shook his head silently.

Ziva pouted and stared out the window of the taxi. Surprisingly enough, she missed wearing her white dress. It had made her feel special, although, looking across at her **husband**, she felt special anyway. He was amazing and he had chosen her, her out of all the women in the world, to be his wife and spend the rest of his life with.

The taxi drew up to the airport and let them out. 'Thanks,' Tony said as he handed the money over. The taxi pulled away and left them standing on the kerb.

Tony picked up his suitcase, thinking that he must be the only husband in the world to pack more than his wife.

'How did you manage to fit all your stuff into that thing?' he asked, eyeing her petite bag suspiciously as if it was some kind of Tardis or Mary Poppins carpet bag.

She shrugged. 'We are only going away for two weeks,' she reminded him, eyeing his large suitcase equally as suspiciously. 'What have you got in there anyway? You didn't bring your whole film collection, did you?'

Tony grinned. 'I restrained myself,' he replied seriously. 'I left behind all the James Bond movies and only brought the Star Wars set. I thought we could watch them instead of having sex.' His face was completely straight.

She pursed her lips. 'I might take you up on that if you aren't careful,' she warned.

Tony considered himself warned and picked up his bag. He considered offering to take hers as well but thought better of it, seeing as she had ninja reflexes and an easily wounded pride.

They walked into the airport terminal, side by side, and made their way over to the check in desk. Ziva kept glancing at the two long rectangles of flimsy card sticking out of Tony's jacket pocket: the tickets.

When they reached the desk, Tony reached them out, covering the destination from his wife. It wasn't a particularly suspenseful secret but he loved watching her squirm…and he knew that she loved the anticipation.

They dropped – in Tony's case heaved – their luggage onto the conveyor belt and made their way through passport control. Ziva passed through the metal detector without a glitch; Tony had somehow managed to persuade her to relinquish her guns and knife collection. As he so wisely pointed out, they were going on honeymoon. Who was she expecting to meet?

Sitting in the waiting room, Ziva continued her pestering of Tony. At various points, she had paused to check that he was growing irritated with her but he seemed amused so she did not cease to trying to wheedle out the end airport of their aeroplane.

She listened out for every boarding announcement for every plane, waiting for the one after which Tony stood up. She stiffened as a plane to Tel Aviv was called but Tony did not move. She heaved a secret sigh of relief; she loved Israel, her homeland, but she would not be able to relax being so close to her father. And, after all, the marriage had started out as a pretext for keeping her away from Israel. She didn't want to go back there straight after being freed from its clutches.

Eventually, Tony stretched out and yawned. 'You want a coffee?'

His wife nodded. 'Black, please,' she requested.

He looked at her in surprise. She liked strong coffee but she usually preferred some milk rather than Gibbs's austere choice of pure black.

She shrugged. 'I'm tired after last night,' she explained, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Tony grinned and moved off to satisfy her order. Ziva rested her head on the back of the hard seat and closed her eyes, curling her legs up to her chest.

The next thing she was aware of was Tony shaking her gently. 'Ziva, Ziva,' he whispered. 'It's time to board the plane.'

She opened her eyes slowly, rubbing them. 'Wha-?' she muttered blearily.

'Our plane is here,' he repeated, prodding her shoulder.

She sat up straight. 'Which plane?' she demanded, hoping to catch him off guard.

He smiled and shook his head. At least he knew that she was properly awake now.

'Come on,' he urged. 'We don't want to miss it and get stuck in DC for our honeymoon.'

She grinned and stood up, brushing the hair out of her eyes. 'Which terminal?' she asked, squinting at the screen in the corner of the waiting room.

Tony pulled her arm. 'Gate 3,' he replied hurriedly. 'Come on.'

She followed him obediently, kicking herself for falling asleep and missing the announcement. She liked the suspense, however anticlimactic it would be when she found out that they were going to Canada or somewhere, and she really wanted to find out for herself. She was an investigator, for God's sake, and yet she couldn't find out where her husband was taking her on honeymoon. It was pitiful.

Finally, they passed under a sign with the destination of the plane clearly shown in big, luminous yellow, capital letters. ALL PASSENGERS FOR BARCELONA, SPAIN THIS WAY PLEASE.

'We're going to Spain,' she remarked, stepping onto the human conveyor belt and turning to face him.

He grinned. 'Not only Spain,' he replied. 'We spend three days in Barcelona, five days in Paris, three days in London, and then two days in New York.'

Ziva laughed. 'You really planned this all out, huh?'

Tony nodded, masking his pride with a thin shield of modesty.

'Ok, then,' Ziva humoured him. 'Why Barcelona?'

Tony stepped off the conveyor belt and walked in time with her. 'The culture is…' He stopped, sensing Ziva's doubt. 'Alright,' he conceded. 'I wanted to see you in a bikini again. And maybe skinny dip,' he added.

Ziva hid her smile. 'And Spain is the best place for that?'

Tony shrugged. 'It is the best place near Paris,' he explained.

'And why Paris?'

Tony smiled at her confidentially. 'We have good memories of Paris,' he reminded her.

She grinned. 'Ok,' she acknowledged. 'But London? What's there in London?'

Tony grimaced sheepishly. 'James Bond,' he admitted.

Ziva let out a purr of laughter. 'How did I not guess?'

Tony smiled at her guiltily, then smiled at the air hostess politely as they boarded the plane.

'London baby,' he quipped.

Ziva frowned. 'What movie is that from?'

Tony blushed. 'It isn't. It's from Friends.'

'You watch Friends?' Ziva asked slowly.

Tony reddened further. 'Only when I was really bored,' he defended.

Ziva sat down in her seat and touched his leg affectionately as he reached up to put their luggage in the overhead lockers. 'I learn something new about you every day.'

Tony grinned as he sat down and took her hand in his. 'I would say that you will run out of things just before our Golden Wedding Anniversary.' He looked at her, his eyes soft and flecked with gold. 'And I will run out of things to learn about you on our Diamond Anniversary.'

**Ok, so that turned out pretty long in the end.**

**All details about American airports are taken from Toy Story 2 so they are probably not accurate at all. I didn't really want to get into the strip searches and naked X-rays. I'll leave the naked body descriptions for sex or masturbating between them instead of some fat airport official wanking off to Ziva's black and white body bone structure.**


	41. Mile High Club

**I can't believe that I got past the 40 chapter mark! And they only just got married! I'm so proud of myself! And of you for keeping on reading this story!**

Tony's hand was clasped in Ziva's and resting on his thigh. Around them, people were pushing rudely past each other and fruitlessly trying to shove large bags into small spaces.

A fat man plumped down in the seat next to Tony, making the springs bounce and squeal in protest. Tony merely gave the man a passing glance before turning back to his more aesthetically pleasing wife.

He turned back around as the row of seats bounced again. This time a fat woman plumped down in the end seat. She wiggled her large behind, settling herself before nudging and grinning flabbily at who Tony presumed was her husband.

Tony turned back towards the window and stared out with Ziva as the plane took off.

'This is it,' he whispered. 'Our honeymoon.' She grinned.

The grey tarmac of the runway soon became grey sky mottled with grey cloud.

Tony closed his eyes and leant his head on the back of the seat. He felt Ziva's warm hand pull away as she stood up. 'Bathroom,' she explained quietly. He pressed his back against the seat and pulled his legs in to let her get past.

Pushing past the fat couple proved more difficult. Ziva's mouth became tired of grimacing apologetically after the first few attempts to climb over their large legs. Eventually, her ninja agility got her through and she blew her hair out of her face before hurrying towards the bathroom.

Tony smiled wryly to himself and looked out the window. The outlook was still an opaque grey. Hardly the brightest start to a hopefully sun-filled honeymoon.

He really needed some more photos to add to their pitiful photo album. There were almost no photos of the two of them together. He did have a couple of beautiful ones of Ziva; Ziva in her infamous blue and white bikini on their fated trip to LA and Ziva browsing French magazines while wearing the long, green coat which Tony bought her in Paris. If Barcelona was sunny, he was sure that he could coax Ziva into donning a few more revealing bikinis and – he really had set his hopes on this – perhaps even go skinny dipping with her.

A pudgy finger prodding him popped the glorious bubble of mental images of Ziva floating naked in a pool, swirling a pink umbrella in a martini glass with a golden finger. He turned around, already hostile to the owner of the digit.

He was confronted with a set of yellowing teeth set in Barbie pink gums. Tony managed a faltering smile. 'Yes?' he asked snappily.

The teeth-baring grin widened. 'I couldn't help but overhear that you are going on your honeymoon,' he said thickly.

Tony looked dubious at the 'couldn't help but overhear.' He had whispered his excitement in Ziva's ear.

The man's dense voice continued to plague Tony's eardrums. 'I would like to offer my congratulations. You've bagged yourself a pretty girl. Obviously not as pretty as my girl...' He turned and beamed at his flabby, overweight wife who was twirling around her cylindrical finger a strand of thin hair, straw-like in colour, consistency and moisture. Tony hazarded a watery smile. '...It's our anniversary this weekend. We've been married for fifteen years. '

Tony nodded politely. He could see that this soliloquy had the potential to carry on relentlessly for some time so he hastily excused himself before he became socially required to stay and listen till the end. Instead of trying delicately to clamber over the legs blocking the aisle, Tony opted for brute force mixed with vaulting power. He got through much quicker than Ziva but left a certain pouting couple behind him.

The whole exchange had taken less than two minutes and, since Ziva had not returned and there was no queue for the toilet so early in the flight, Tony assumed that the occupied cubicle must be occupied by Ziva. He tapped lightly at the door.

'Yes,' came a wary voice which he readily recognised.

'Ziva,' he hissed. 'Hurry back. I'm being harassed.'

He heard a short burst of laughter and then the sound of a flushing toilet. The tap gushed momentarily before the door was opened and a smiling Ziva appeared.

'You want me to rescue you,' she lisped teasingly.

Tony grinned, his eyes lighting up like a warehouse in the morning. He pushed Ziva gently back into the cubicle, squeezing himself in as well.

'What are you doing?' Ziva protested.

'Ever heard of the Mile High Club?'

Ziva shook her head.

Tony bent down and kissed her lightly before replying. 'You're about to join it,' he told her.

Ziva frowned but Tony's fingers dropping her trousers to her knees allowed her to form an idea on this club which he wouldn't be explicit about, possibly because it was explicit in nature.

He unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his boxers, unleashing his erection. Just being in such a confined space with such a beautiful girl stiffened him.

Ziva grinned and walked her fingers down it, starting at his abdomen and finishing at the tip. She dropped to her knees and took it in her mouth, running her tongue up its length. Tony clenched his jaw, not wanting to cry out or ejaculate in her mouth. She dotted his dick with kisses, moaning quietly as it progressed deeper and deeper into her mouth.

Her arms raised above her head, hands balling into fists to relieve the tension. Her hand collided with the flush button on the wall and a gushing, gargling sound echoed in the small metal container. She drew back, taking it out of her mouth. Tony reached out, his eyes closed and his head tilted back, and found her shoulders and pulled upwards gently and suggestively.

She followed his lead and stood up, pressing her clothed top half to his shirt. He pushed inside her easily, having been already lubricated by Ziva's mouth, and thrust rhythmically. He could feel himself getting hotter and hotter, as if blazing white spirit was coursing through his veins, turning his whole body into a blistering inferno.

He breathed in deeply, taking in the pungent smell of her hair. He drew out and leant against the door, grinning lazily. She pulled her trousers up and reached forward to button up his boxers. Her fingers brushed against his recently satisfied member and it jumped slightly, threatening to set off again. She zipped him up and washed her hands once more, drying them on the paper towel.

She poked Tony's ribs, nodding towards the door. Tony stepped aside to let her past. She kissed him one more time before returning to their seat, leaving him to use the bathroom in the way that it was meant to be used.

When the plane landed nine hours later, Tony was wearing a broad grin, like the cat who got the cream, despite the eurhythmic, spluttering snores of the couple beside them.

**You owe the sex in this chapter to FrankandJoe3. I told you that the plane ride wasn't over yet.**

**41 chapters! I can't believe that you are interested enough in this story to stick with it for 40 chapters. Especially when nothing has really happened yet. Wow.**


	42. Just A Quickie

**I realised that I have never done a disclaimer on any of my stories. I decided that I might as well show willing, just in case, and do at least one. Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. That wasn't as complicated as I thought it would be actually. Perhaps I should do them more often.**

Tony dropped onto the bed, the springs complaining beneath him. He looked up at Ziva with a grin. Ziva threw her bag into the corner and walked over, her arms outstretched. She sat down on the edge of bed, her hand resting on his knee.

He propped himself up on one elbow and reached out to pull her backwards. She allowed herself to be manhandled and lay down next to him. Her hand moved from his knee to his crotch. He blinked slowly and his smile widened.

He kicked off his shoes, not caring about cracking the stiff Italian leather. He turned his head to look at his wife's beautiful face. He reached out a hand to stroke her smooth, Israeli skin. Except she wasn't Israeli anymore. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She was unequivocally American. Not even her influential father could dispute that now.

She smiled back; her grin lazy. 'What do we do now?' she asked idly.

He would have shrugged but the one shoulder that she could see was pressed up against her. Instead he grunted indecisively.

'Are you hungry?'

He grunted again; his old oafishness resurfacing.

'Do you want me to make reservations?'

He sighed and sat up. 'I'm your husband; that's my job,' he protested.

She laughed and pulled him back down. 'You know, I'm not so hungry. I'm sure we could find something more...interesting to do.'

He chuckled, ever the lothario. 'I'm not going to argue,' he told her.

She rolled on top of him, considering her options. Grinning, she unzipped his fly for the second time that day. She crawled backwards, a glint in her eye, and went down on him. She sucked him, taking a breath each time she surfaced.

He lay back on the bed, his head sitting deep in the pillow, and moaned in pleasure. Eventually, she stopped and looked up, smiling questioningly. In answer to her question, he put his hands under her shoulders and pulled her face up to his, kissing her gently.

Her face lost its teasing edge and softened into a loving expression, more fitting for a wife than a tough federal agent. She was not Agent David; she was Ziva DiNozzo, husband of Tony. That was her identity now. And she loved the sound of it.

His fingers fiddled with her zip, finally undoing it and letting her kick them off. He stuck his thumbs in her knickers, moving slowly towards her clit. His index finger slipped inside and her chest rose as she held her breath. A smile spread slowly across her face.

She was getting hotter and wetter but it was progressing gradually. She got to make the most of it. He grinned up at her and she bent down, wiping the smile off his face. She nibbled gently on his bottom lip, enjoying the small moan it elicited.

She opened her eyes and saw that he was staring at her. She pulled back, sitting up on his chest, a leg on each side of his ribs. 'What?' she asked quietly.

'You are just so beautiful,' he replied, keeping a straight face.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, punching him lightly. She shifted backwards, letting him slip inside her. He was hard and she was wet: they wanted to satisfy each other. By pleasuring the other, they would make themselves happy. It was a vicious circle, as Tony would say.

She rotated her hips leisurely. They were in no hurry. They had all the time in the world. The rest of their lives to be exact. His groans and grunts grew, climaxing as her movements sped up. He grabbed her arms and tightened his grip, leaving white marks when he let go. She rolled off him, breathing heavily. It hadn't been particularly tiring but being completely turned on did take it out of a girl.

'You hungry now?' she asked.

He sat up and delved his fingers back inside her casually. 'Sure, what do you have in mind?'

She squirmed in gratification as he moved his fingers around. After a couple of half-hearted attempts to reply which came out as moans, she managed to form a coherent reply. 'We could just go for a pizza.'

He laughed. 'That's how we start off our married life? With a pizza in Barcelona? In case you hadn't noticed we are in Spain, not Italy.''

She shrugged, drawing a deep breath as he continued to work her. 'We would have to make reservations for anywhere classier and more Spanish,' she pointed out.

He nodded and pulled his fingers out. 'We'll make reservations for tomorrow evening,' he decided. 'And we'll have pizza tonight.'

She sat up, kissing him quickly on her way to her bag. He shuffled up to the headboard and leant back, watching her get undressed with appreciative eyes.

She only had to take her top and bra off before she was completely bare. She could feel his gaze on her but she felt at ease. He was her husband now so he could watch her at anytime. And she could enjoy his gaze without feeling guilty. Marriage definitely had its perks, she decided. She couldn't quite remember why she had previously been so anti-marriage.

She flicked through her limited options in her bag. Packing light was advisable in any circumstances but it was a flawed idea. She wouldn't be able to stun Tony every evening with a different outfit. She did, however, have something in mind for that night. There was no reason why she should be as modest in Barcelona as she was in Washington. After all, Tony had been angling for skinny dipping and skimpy bikinis. Why not give a taster of what was to come? And she was planning on indulging him further later.

Five minutes later, Tony was gazing, practically drooling, at a curvy woman in a tight fitting tank top and tiny shorts that could barely be called shorts. G-string would probably be a more accurate depiction of them. Funny, since that was what she was wearing underneath the hotpants.

Tony felt overdressed in his shirt and trousers. He almost stripped down to his boxers and went out in topless. He restrained himself, though, and stuck with his travelling clothes.

Pulling the door shut behind him, he linked his arm in hers.

**There wasn't that much that I needed to change. Next chapter **_**will **_**be about Barcelona from the beginning.**


	43. Sex, Sun and Food

**Ok. So I completely forgot that they were meant to go to Barca first. Thanks for pointing it out. I have changed the ending of the last chapter to fit with Spain.**

**I don't speak Spanish so you are just going to have to imagine.**

'Just two, sir?'

Tony nodded and the waiter pointed towards a table tucked under the wooden stairs of the small pizza restaurant.

He pulled Ziva's chair out for her and returned the charming smile she gave him. They were the picture of marital bliss. He was taken back to the last time that they were in a restaurant like this. Since then, they had mostly either eaten takeaway pizza or Chinese or Ziva had cooked for him.

They picked up their menus but there was no hiding behind them, forcing banal small talk to avoid the uncomfortable revelations. They had declared their love and taken all steps to solidify their relationship. There was nothing between them anymore.

Tony chose his quickly and dropped his menu, eyeing the eager waiter hovering nearby. He was a young lad and probably new to working. He seemed determined to make a good impression and complete his job as quickly and efficiently as possible. Tony's generous nature came out and he prodded Ziva his foot.

'Have you chosen?' he asked.

Ziva looked up, frowning. 'What's the hurry?'

'Our waiter wants to take our order,' he explained.

Ziva chuckled. 'It's not just that you want to get back to our room, then?'

Tony grinned and reached over to lay his hand on top of hers. 'Well, that too,' he admitted.

She smiled sweetly and let go of her menu. 'Chosen,' she announced.

Tony nodded at the waiter who dashed over, clutching his notebook as if it was a fly itching to escape from his grasp and contaminate the customers' meals.

Tony congratulated himself on speaking Spanish fluently and was glad that Ziva, his new wife, did to. The boy would probably have a stroke if he realised that he would have to decipher drawled, nasal English.

'Ready to order, sir?' the waiter asked breathlessly, looking fervently at Tony.

'Yes,' Ziva answered sharply, determined not to suddenly become a second wheel now that she had got married and was not independent.

Tony leant back in his chair and watched his forceful wife take charge.

'I would like the margherita,' she told him. 'And my husband would like…'

Tony looked up. 'The mushroom and ham,' he put in.

'…the mushroom and ham,' Ziva repeated.

The waiter wrote this down, presumably listing all the ingredients since it took him a good few moments.

Tony watched him with interest, trying to imagine a child of his being that nervous. It was an unlikely situation; not because they wouldn't have children, but because both parents of any child were so confident and sure of themselves.

The waiter fumbled as he attempted to slide his pen neatly into his breast pocket. He dropped his notepad-holding arm to his side and made to move off but Ziva resumed reading her order loudly to stop him as politely as possible.

The boy blushed profusely and scrambled to pull his pen out of his pocket. 'Sorry,' he muttered. 'I didn't quite catch that.'

Ziva smiled forgivingly and repeated her order. 'A bottle of the house red, please,' she requested civilly.

'Not champagne?' Tony asked, blurting out the question before considering the toll it might have on the poor boy's sensibility. 'I mean, we are celebrating,' he added, quietly and hastily.

Ziva cocked her head. 'You are willing to pay?' she confirmed. Tony chuckled at hr audacity but nodded. She shrugged and turned to the palpitating waiter. 'Ok, then, make that a bottle of champagne.'

The boy nodded as courteously as possibly imaginable but Tony could see the panic in his eyes as he mentally went through the unprofessionalism of scratching out _One bottle of house red _and writing _One bottle of champagne _over the top.

Tony wished he had a rubber to hand to the flailing boy but he didn't. Who carries a rubber with them into classy, Spanish restaurants?

The waiter grinned goofily at them before hurrying off towards the kitchens. Tony smiled generously at his retreating back and Ziva smiled curiously at her paternal husband.

He turned back to her and squeezed her hand. 'What do you want to do tonight?'

She pursed her lips in thought. They had the whole town at their fingertips but Tony's body seemed much more alluring at that moment.

'The hotel has a swimming pool,' Tony suggested, not being very subtle.

Ziva smiled softly. 'I'm not stripping in front of strangers,' she replied firmly. 'You may have to do with seeing me in the bath.'

Tony's face did not fall. 'Or maybe I could get in with you,' he pointed out.

Ziva laughed. 'It's a possibility,' she acknowledged.

Tony looked around the restaurant. 'Abby hasn't called,' he remarked, frowning. 'She usually calls every few seconds when we are away.'

Ziva grinned. 'I asked her – very politely, mind – not to call more than once a day. We need our privacy.'

Tony leaned across the table to kiss his wife's enticing lips. Long gone were the days when he could look but not touch.

'We certainly do,' he agreed. 'We only have two weeks before we are back to work. We have to make the most of them.'

Ziva smiled wistfully. 'We will,' she promised.

'Lots of sex, sun and food,' Tony listed his requirements for a perfect honeymoon.

Ziva eyed him with amusement. 'No movies?'

He shook his head. 'In case you didn't notice, whenever we watch a movie together I always spend more time watching you than the movie.'

Ziva hid a delighted smile. 'I did notice,' she replied drily. 'You generally do realise when someone undresses you.'

Tony opened his mouth to make a witty – at least, he thought it was witty –retort but was stopped by the waiter approaching, bearing a basket of bread and their bottle of champagne in the other.

He smiled weakly at Tony as he balanced the bread basket precariously on the edge of the table while he overturned the wine glasses and shifted the napkins to the side. Tony cursed himself for not already doing it. He didn't know why he felt so protective of the boy but he really wanted to put the boy at ease.

Eventually, the boy had painstakingly arranged their table in the way probably demonstrated by a seasoned waiter with arms like whippets during his tutorial. He stepped back to admire his handiwork before smiling proudly at Tony. 'Is everything to your liking, sir?'

Tony noticed a steely glint appear in Ziva's eye; she didn't like being treated as subordinate to her Senior Field Agent and, if any other circumstances, the boy would have found his arm twisted behind his back and his mouth flowing with incoherent apologies.

'Yes, thank you,' he replied quickly, placing a pacifying hand on Ziva's arm.

The boy nodded and moved away to serve another table with just the same amount of slow care.

Tony broke a piece of bread in half and munched on one, offering the other chunk to Ziva. 'Who does he remind you of?' he asked through a mouthful of bread.

Ziva frowned in thought but eventually shrugged.

Tony smiled guiltily. 'Palmer,' he enlightened her. 'When he first started and was confronted by Gibbs.'

'I wasn't here when he first started,' she reminded him. 'When I came, he had already been working there for about a year.'

Tony's lips parted slightly, unsure how to reply. He vaguely thought that Ziva must have an idea why Palmer's predecessor had left. He really hoped that she did. How do you explain to your wife that her brother – his brother-in-law – had shot an innocent man in the shoulder?

He didn't want Kate to be brought up either; for one thing, he felt slightly guilty that he had married her successor and murderer's sister. Obviously, he didn't think of Ziva in those terms but he was aware that that was what it would look like to an outsider.

Ziva didn't press the matter, however, so Tony was spared an uncomfortable conversation. Instead, she held out the champagne bottle to him. He took it and poured generous glasses out.

As they drank, the dark thoughts milling around the table were dismissed and the atmosphere lightened. They laughed and joked and needled each other in good spirits and, when the waiter approached with two large platters of pizza, Tony greeted him jovially like a well-liked son.

The bottle was finished before they moved onto dessert but Tony made the executive decision that another one was probably unwise. They were not quite drunk but they were moving in that direction.

Two hours after they were directed to their table, Ziva pushed her cleaned plate of chocolate cake away from her and ran her tongue over her lips.

'Ready?' Tony asked.

Ziva nodded and he hailed a passing waiter. He did not panic at the sight of the large bill, exponentially enlarged by the champagne, but pulled out his credit card. Ziva touched his arm.

'I was joking, by the way,' she assured him. 'Let me pay for half.'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'We are married, anyway,' he pointed out. 'What's mine is yours, so you are paying for the whole thing technically.'

Ziva looked dubious but leant back and let Tony pay. He bid farewell to the waiter, tipping more liberally than he would normally, and they stood up and left.

**This ended up as longer than I intended but my afternoon was fairly empty anyway. My plan of escaping my jail for half-term has failed miserably. My dad has resumed his tactic of locking me in the house. I've still got the computer, though, which means FanFiction and Facebook: my two vices (along with cigarettes and alcohol naturally).**


	44. Sex Fest

**Ooops. Again. As two, very perceptive reviewers pointed out, Gerald was shot in the shoulder, not the leg. Sorry. I'll try to pay more attention to what I write from now on. I changed it, though. *hangs head in shame***

'So,' Ziva said as they walked down the street, arms linked, 'what are we doing next?'

Tony shrugged. 'What do you want to do? We could go back to the hotel, we could go out and get drunk, or we could just wander the streets of Barcelona.'

'Keep walking, then, I guess,' Ziva said. 'See where it takes us.'

Tony nodded and they continued down the street, chattering and laughing as they strode along.

If someone had taken a photo of them just two years before and compared it to the scene now, the gulf between them would have been wide enough to span the English Channel. Instead of needling each other and maintaining a front of dislike and annoyance, they accepted that they had something and were drawing on that to actually have some fun in their stressful lives.

Eventually, sporting bruised lips, they returned to the hotel, flopping down with exhausted groans on their soft mattress.

'That was fun,' Tony commented, rubbing his eyes with balled up fists.

Ziva let out a lion yawn and stretched out on the bed. 'Yes, it was,' she agreed, her words muffled by another wide yawn.

A horse could have fitted inside her mouth and still left room for Tony's tongue. Acting on the principle that he would have lots of space to roam around, he twisted round and slipped his tongue inside.

She grunted in weak protest before reciprocating the kiss. Her body contorted as she shifted into the best position to get the most gain on Tony's mouth. Hands wrapping around his neck, she pulled herself upright, sliding her legs around his waist.

She could feel his erection between her legs. 'Is this honeymoon really going to be a sex fest?' she inquired, grinning teasingly.

He smirked lewdly and tipped his head, nibbling on her ear. Then he stuck his wet tongue in and rotated in round in a circle. 'Would that really be so bad?' he whispered.

She giggled, his warm breath tickling the inside of her ear, and shook her head. She leant forward and tipped him back, moving with him so that she was sitting on top of him.

'You don't get to do this when you are being watched,' she remarked, taking him back to their first night alone together. He grinned and nodded silently. His hands worked quickly, ridding her of her clothes, right down to her g-string.

He threaded his fingers beneath the thin strap of fabric, fiddling with it. There was a twinkle in her eye as she looked at him. He grinned and left the g-string on, moving his hands up to her breasts instead.

Her nipples poked his sweaty palms as he massaged them, his eyes half-closed in rapture. To an onlooker, blind to Ziva's beauty and sexual charm, he might have been high. She unleashed a groan and felt Tony's erection harden.

At last, unable to hold back any more, he pulled her g-string off. 'Condom,' he grunted, feeling around on the bedside table.

Those had been the first things that he unpacked when they arrived. You had to be prepared at all times, that's what his dad had taught him. One of the only father-son bonding moments. His hand, clumsy from ravenous desire, knocked the wrappers to the floor.

He struggled upright to try and retrieve them from the floor but Ziva pushed him back down. He frowned but immediately forgot about everything as Ziva looked up, her hair falling in cascades over her face.

He breathed out slowly and thrust his hips upwards, begging her to open her legs wider for him to enter her. She smiled and lowered herself onto him.

A growl of pleasure released itself from between parted lips. A head was thrown back, throat exposed. Teeth were gritted, holding in the shout as orgasm hurtled towards them. Toes were curled in a desperate attempt to discharge the unbearable tension.

Eventually, a scream and a shout came simultaneously, and then they both flopped. Ziva fell onto the bed next to him, her chest rising and falling as if it was a deflated tyre being pumped with air by an electric bicycle pump.

Tony closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He sat up, pushing himself upright with weary hands. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realised that it was already the second day of their honeymoon. Only two more days in sunny Spain.

'You know,' he hummed, 'the pool is probably deserted at this time.'

Ziva followed his gaze to the wall mounted clock and raised a surprised eyebrow. Supposedly quick sex took longer than it used to. Not that she was complaining.

'So, there would be no strangers to strip in front of,' he concluded, eyeing her with what he hoped was a persuasive puppy-dog pout.

The target of this pleading expression laughed lightly. 'Ok,' she agreed, her reluctance put on for show.

Tony grinned and grabbed her hand. He delved into her tiny bag and brought out a bikini. Thrusting it at her, he turned to his own suitcase and flipped open the lid, sorting through to find his trunks and a towel.

Ziva disappeared into the bathroom and came out with a white, hotel-issue towel draped over her arm. She still hadn't put her bikini on and was completely nude.

Tony whistled as she posed in the doorway for his benefit. 'How did I get you?' he murmured.

She grinned and ran over to him, kissing him with her fingers threading through his hair. 'Because you are _Tony_,' she replied. 'And _Tony_ gets everything he wants.' She narrowed her eyes. 'Including skinny dipping at 0200.'

Tony rolled his delectable brown eyes at her use of technical time-keeping. 'Well,' he reminded her. 'You haven't got anyone else getting you to have fun. Without me, you would be the most serious person on the planet.'

She kissed him again. 'And without me,' she shot back, 'you would still be scouring bars with your _sidekick_ trying to find a girl to sleep with for one night.'

Tony shrugged. 'That is true,' he admitted. 'You have saved me from that fate, Ziva David.'

'Ziva DiNozzo,' she corrected.

He grinned. 'Well, then, Ziva DiNozzo, how would you like to go skinny dipping?'

**I think that the next chapter will have to be longer or we will never get to the end of the honeymoon. How much sex can you get away with on honeymoon? One sexual encounter every chapter, do you think?**


	45. Skinny Dipping

**We are never going to finish the honeymoon off if I don't speed things up so I'll try a different approach to this chapter.**

_Pool_

Tony watched Ziva strip off to her birthday suit with an appreciative gaze. Damn, was she hot. And he was the lucky bastard who had her for life.

He considered taking off his trunks and joining her naked state but decided that, if anyone did happen to come out, a woman naked was much more acceptable than a naked man in the pool.

He slid into the pool and pulled Ziva towards him. Her breasts floated on the top of the water. His lips puckered and she kissed them gently. He closed his eyes and moved his hands south, slipping them between her legs.

She wrapped her calves around his back and held on tightly as he stood up. Laughing, she leant backwards and he toppled over, still holding onto her. They wrestled in the water for a moment, splashing each other and giggling like children at a pool party before swimming over to the side.

'You know,' he murmured into her ear. 'The first time that I saw your body properly was when you were swimming, that first night.'

She turned her head to whisper in his ear, sticking a tongue in it before replying. 'I remember. You stared rather.'

He smiled. 'You were just so hot. Still are.'

She nodded and kissed him again. 'You never thought that you'd be marrying me one day.'

He grunted his agreement. 'I never thought that I be marrying anyone, ever,' he told her.

She laughed and slid onto his lap. 'Why did you marry me, then?' she asked softly.

'I loved you,' he replied simply. She smiled. That was an acceptable answer.

_Flamingos_

'What's the first thing that comes into your head when you think of Spain?' Tony asked.

Ziva pursed her lips, thinking, and hummed.

Tony prodded her ribs. 'You can't think; it has to be spontaneous,' he protested.

'Ok, ok,' she agreed, squirming away from his poking finger. 'Flamingos,' she said.

Tony frowned, a smile appearing on his face. 'What?'

Ziva nodded seriously. 'You know, flamingo dancing.'

Tony laughed and slapped her arm. 'Flamenco dancing, Ziva,' he corrected.

She shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. 'You know,' she remarked. 'You'd think that, on holiday, we would stop drinking so much coffee. It can't be good for us.'

Tony looked at her over his own cup. 'It becomes a habit, I suppose.'

'A good habit or a bad habit?'

Tony frowned. 'Why?'

Ziva leant over the table. 'Is coffee bad for you?'

Tony leaned forward as well and put his head against hers. 'Why are you asking?' he repeated.

She flushed a deep pink which spread over her olive, Israeli cheeks. 'No reason,' she deflected badly.

Tony snorted. 'Why?' he persisted.

'I don't want you to have a bad habit,' she revealed.

Tony laughed and sat back in his chair. 'It isn't going to kill me, Ziva,' he assured her. 'I'm much more likely to get shot than die from drinking too much coffee, you know.'

She stared into the dregs at the bottom of her cup. 'I know,' she muttered.

_Candyfloss_

'The fairground?' Ziva asked, raising an eyebrow. 'Really, Tony?'

Tony turned to her quizzically. 'What's wrong with the fair?'

'Nothing,' she replied. 'It's just...'

'What?'

'I've never been,' she admitted.

Tony gasped dramatically and grabbed her hands. 'Oh, Ziva,' he exclaimed. 'I'm so glad that I brought you here, now!'

He tugged her in the direction of the carousel. 'You'll love it, I promise,' he told her, paying the man. He directed her towards a white and blue painted horse and lifted her onto it as if she was a child. Then he climbed onto the next door one, a pink stallion.

Ziva clutched the gold pole, her knuckles turning white.

Tony chuckled. 'You remain perfectly under gunfire but you freak out on a child's carousel?'

Ziva fixed him with a look.

'Relax,' he advised. 'You aren't going to fall.'

Ziva visibly slackened her grip and dropped her shoulders from up by her ears. A smile spread across her face.

Tony grinned at his fun-loving wife. 'I told you you'd enjoy it,' he said as they clambered off.

Ziva shrugged. 'You know me too well,' she replied. 'What next?'

Tony glanced around him. 'Candyfloss,' he decided, his eyes lighting up.

_Speedos_

Ziva ran up the beach, the wet sand sticking to her toes, waving at Tony.

'Come on,' she begged, flopping down on the sand beside him.

He shook his head. 'I'll traumatise the kids if I go out,' he told her drily.

Ziva laughed. 'No, you won't,' she assured him. 'Look.' She pointed towards a grotesquely obese man lumbering along the sand wearing tiny Speedos. Tony grimaced.

'Yeah,' he nodded. 'I don't want to be that man.'

Ziva poked his stomach. 'Pure rock,' she remarked. 'That's what Abby said. And I agree.'

Tony eyed her curiously, one eyebrow higher than the other. 'Abby said that?'

Ziva nodded earnestly. 'It's our honeymoon,' she wheedled. 'Come on.'

She stood up and hopped up and down, her breasts jiggling in her tiny red bikini. Tony groaned. He knew that she knew that he wouldn't be able to resist her when she lured him in like that.

'Ok,' he agreed, allowing himself to be led down to the water, his eyes fixed on her tight butt barely covered by the triangle of red material clinging to it like a dehydrated leech.

_Annulment_

Tony smiled at Ziva over the table. Tomatoes and squid and red sausage and omelette and potatoes sat between them in 'cute little bowls,' as Ziva had dubbed them in a moment of girlish innocence. Tony had duly laughed at this lapse in tough assassin guard.

'You look so beautiful,' he told her.

She chuckled, frowning. 'This isn't the Tony I married,' she remarked. 'The Tony that I said 'I do' to would never say something as cheesy as that.'

Tony grinned and reached out to take her hand in his. 'What, you want to get an annulment? I never knew that he thought that I was beautiful: declare this marriage null and void?'

Ziva laughed and squeezed his hand, leaning across to kiss him. 'Or I could match with something equally cheesy,' she offered.

Tony nodded. 'Go ahead.'

She shifted in her chair, finding an optimum position. She straightened her face before saying, completely sincerely, 'You look so handsome, my prince.'

Tony snorted. 'Overdoing it a bit with the 'my prince,' don't you think?'

She shrugged. 'What would you have preferred? My federal agent?'

'I'm not a federal agent on honeymoon,' he told her. 'I'm just Mr DiNozzo, here with Mrs DiNozzo.'

They both felt a fluttering in their stomachs at the name. They were linked in more than just body; they didn't have to hide their love from the world and each other anymore. It was all out in the open. No more secrets.

Just two people in love.

**Did it work? Or was each bit too short? They deleted my time breaks – twice – so I put in little mini chapter names.**

**For those of you also reading my other story, I won't update it today, sorry. Two chapters a day, each over 1,000 words takes two hours out of my day – I'm a slow typer – and this evening is the first night out of my personal jail cell in ages. Fun, fun, fun, as Rebecca Black would say.**


	46. City Of Love, And Arguing

**Ok, two apologies now. First, I'm sorry for not updating regularly. Things got busy. Secondly, in the last chapter, there were no time breaks indicated. I think that the new version of FF deleted the lines. I reuploaded it with new breaks.**

'Paris,' Tony said, grinning to his wife as they disembarked from the aeroplane.

'Move,' the man behind them barked.

Tony half-turned to see who was speaking. 'Excuse me?'

Ziva poked Tony. 'Come on, Tony,' she hissed, tugging his jacket sleeve.

Tony turned back around and followed Ziva into Charles de Gaulle airport.

'Paris,' Tony said again, patting his thrust out chest.

Ziva grinned. 'Are you really that excited by Paris?' she asked.

He looked at her and shrugged. 'Aren't you?'

She grinned. 'Not quite as much as you,' she replied. 'But, then, I don't think that would be possible.'

He mirrored her facial expression and led her out of the airport to the taxi rank. 'Eiffel Tower?' he suggested.

Ziva tapped their luggage with her foot. 'I could take my bag up,' she observed, eyeing Tony with amusement. 'But you packed too much to haul up the Eiffel Tower.'

Tony grunted. 'Ok,' he relented.

The taxi-driver twisted round in his seat. 'Where do you want me to take you?' he asked in stunted English.

Tony fished in his pocket and brought out a scrap of paper, reading the address to the taxi driver.

The taxi driver murmured assent and pulled away from the kerb.

* * *

><p>Ziva sat up, Tony's cock sliding out of her mouth. Tony looked up at her with shining eyes.<p>

'What a start to the Paris section of our honeymoon,' he breathed.

She smiled and climbed off the bed. 'What do you want to do now?' she said, looking out of the hotel window, staring at the lights of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Somehow – and she had no idea where he had come up with the money – they were staying in a 5-star hotel with the most spectacular views.

Tony sat up. 'What's the time?'

'Look for yourself,' she said over her shoulder.

Tony eyed her back with narrowed eyes before sitting up and reaching for his watch on the bed stand. 'Seven o'clock,' he muttered. 'We still have time to go up the Eiffel Tower.'

She turned round and walked over, her naked hips shifting from side to side sensuously. 'Why are you so obsessed with that?'

A slight flush started to creep up his neck but made it no further than his bobbing Adam's apple. 'Because I want to be up in the clouds with you,' he told her softly.

She smiled. 'Ok.' She leaned in to kiss him quickly and then hopped off the bed and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it with a big smile across her face.

Outside, Tony lay staring at the ceiling before getting up and pulling on his clothes. Ziva came out, water dripping off her chin, and dressed too, wriggling her feet through the pipes of skinny jeans, encasing her legs in mummifying black denim, and pulling the draping t-shirt down to drop down and show off the top of her breasts. Tony sucked air in through his teeth, making a low whistling sound. Ziva grinned at him and arranged her top again, pulling it slightly lower.

Tony walked over to her and bent over, placing two kisses on the material where he guessed her nipples were, erect at his touch. She smothered a grin and pushed him away. He took her hand and, together, they went out of their room.

* * *

><p>Standing atop the Tower, Tony put his arm round Ziva's shoulders. He gestured with his other arm to the expanse of Paris which sprawled out beneath them on all sides. Ziva nodded to his unspoken sentiment and squeezed his waist tighter.<p>

They stepped back, their feet moving together. 'Beautiful,' Tony whispered.

Ziva murmured her agreement and Tony laughed.

'I was talking 'bout you,' he told her.

She bit her lip, hiding a pleased smile. He looked down at her and kissed the top of her head.

'Back now?' he asked. In reply, she tugged him towards the elevator. 'Stairs?' he added.

She shook her head. 'You can't anyway,' she explained. 'Not up to the top.'

As the elevator stopped at the next floor down, he pushed her gently out of the doors. 'We are taking the stairs,' he told her, grinning.

She did not return the grin. 'I'm tired, Tony. I just want to get down and eat and go home and sleep.'

He pretended to pout. 'You forgot the sex.'

She shook her head. 'I've already given you oral, isn't that enough?'

He frowned, a genuine confusion. 'Well, I'm sorry,' he snapped. 'I didn't know that it was hardship to give your beloved husband head.'

She scowled. 'Don't talk like that.'

He matched her expression. 'Like what?' he asked faux innocently.

She narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him. If they hadn't been 'friends' for years, he would have been intimidated by this show of aggression.

'Like saying _head_,' she snarled.

Her tone of voice moved the argument up a notch on the Richter scale.

'It's what it is, isn't it?' he taunted.

Ziva turned away and started towards the elevator.

Tony called after her, 'What, don't I even get a punch? That's how you usually end disagreements!'

She half-turned but controlled herself and stopped. 'This is not a disagreement,' she told him coldly before walking straight through the open elevator doors.

He watched the elevator descend before lashing out at the unforgiving metal structure, kicking it with his thin leather shoes, wincing at the shock of pain.

All the anger dissipated out of his face and he began to jog down the metal steps, reaching the bottom with stars spinning in front of his eyes and his breath ragged and shaky.

She was leaning against one of the splayed feet of the Tower, her head down. He jogged over to her, clutching his stomach at the spot of pain from his stitch.

'I'm sorry,' he shouted before he even reached her.

A group of Chinese tourists looked up as if the crazy American might be talking to one of them.

She looked up too and her eyes softened and she nodded. 'Me too,' she whispered into his neck, littering his skin with kisses.

'I think that this is where we have make-up sex,' he said, testing the waters.

She laughed and tugged on his arm. 'Come on,' she grinned.

'So?' he asked, trailing behind her like an eager puppy. 'Was that a yes?'

She shrugged. 'You'll have to see,' she replied cryptically.

**Another couple of chapters and we might reach 100,000 hits...That refresh button is right up there...And that review button is just down there...**

**I reuploaded this again - with new time breaks. They should show up this time.**


	47. James Bond

**Finally, I get to write about a place I know. No more guessing American places and customs – I know London – I live in London. Though, I don't know much about the tourist attractions; who goes on the London Eye when they see London everyday from the ground? It's better than writing about Washington, though, when the closest I've got to America is standing on the American Plate Boundary in Iceland.**

'So,' Ziva asked. 'What does James Bond do in London?'

Tony shrugged. 'Usually he kills people,' he replied. 'But I think we'll try not to do any of that.' He eyed her suspiciously. 'I know that you left all your weapons back in D.C. but you haven't bought any since, have you?'

Ziva looked hurt at the accusation. 'Funnily enough, _husband_, my mind is more occupied by keeping you out of trouble and out of other girls' pants than shooting people.'

Tony grinned and pulled her closer. 'I don't need to get in anyone else's pants,' he told her. 'I get plenty of sex from you.'

She looked up at him. 'I noticed that subtlety,' she observed. 'Changing the _girls _to _anyone_. You know, Tony, I wouldn't be as upset if you slept with a man as if you slept with a woman.' She smiled, wrinkling her nose playfully. 'I'm sure McGee would be hurt, though.'

Tony scowled and tugged at her arm: getting out of Heathrow would end the conversation. They headed down the escalator to the shuttle, Ziva holding Tony's hand.

'If Ducky was here,' she remarked. 'He would tell the story of the one legged man on the London escalator.'

Tony cut in, stopping the story before it could start. 'Ducky isn't here.'

Ziva nodded and turned to look at the peeling posters, advertising West End musicals and business models.

'We should go to a musical,' she said thoughtfully.

Tony looked at her oddly. 'I didn't know that you were into musicals.'

She shrugged. 'I'm not…specifically. But, since we're here, it might be nice, don't you think? Unless you don't want to,' she added.

Tony shook his head. 'No, no. I have nothing against it. I would quite like to go actually,' he admitted. 'It just seems like a _couple-y _thing to do. And that isn't really your thing.'

Ziva frowned and drew closer to him. 'In case you hadn't noticed, Tony; we _are _a couple.'

Tony laughed and nodded, and they stepped off the escalator with Ziva's one legged man story still untold. Maybe Ducky could enlighten Tony when they returned and regaled their team with stories of Barcelona and Paris and London.

Sitting on the shuttle, Tony clasping Ziva's hand in his lap, Ziva mused out loud again. 'We could go to the theatre as well,' she suggested.

Tony removed his hand from hers and wiped its sweaty stickiness on his trouser leg. 'We only have a couple of days,' he reminded her. 'And we need to leave some time for sex.'

She punched his bicep lightly. 'We will,' she promised. 'Believe me.'

Tony settled back in his seat and took her hand once more, threading his fingers through hers. 'Ok,' he murmured sleepily. His eyes closed and he breathing regulated, thankfully not growing into deep snores.

Ziva watched him for a while before drifting off to sleep as well.

They didn't get long to rest, however, since the journey was only half an hour. Jerked away by the screeching jolt of well-oiled brakes, they found themselves amid a bustling of people. They stood up and, used to pushing back when jostled, they collected their bags and disembarked.

The queue for the taxi rank was long and Ziva leaned into Tony's chest, glad that she could rest her head on her partner without him teasing her. A few years ago, he would have squirmed away, not from a dislike of the action, but from a worry that she had something planned. Now, he trusted her not to play with his mind and pride. The banter was less frequent and gentler.

At long last, they reached the front of the queue, after Tony had done his gentlemanly act a couple of times and helped elderly couples into the back of black taxi cabs, and they climbed into the back themselves, dropping their bags onto the floor in front of them.

Tony called through the plastic partition the name of the hotel, committed to memory this time, before leaning back and letting Ziva rest her head on his shoulder. They were both dog tired, up late having sex Tony was proud to say, and their nap on the shuttle had done nothing to ease their fatigue.

With only one eye open, Tony looked round the back of the taxi cab. It was very reminiscent of James Bond, and countless other movies which popped easily into his head. The accents too brought floods of scenes into his head, none of which he relayed to Ziva. She put up with references enough – she deserved a break on their honeymoon, he rationalised.

The London traffic was appalling, though not as bad as D.C. rush hour, and he managed to catch another kip before they pulled up outside their hotel.

Tony paid the taxi driver, in pounds sterling, and followed Ziva inside. He had not splashed out on this hotel; the lavish expense had gone into Paris and the air fares and would go into New York.

They checked in and trudged up the stairs to their room. Despite jet lag and lack of sleep, Ziva hopped onto the bed and tugged her shirt over her head, revealing a very sexy bra which Tony had not seen her put on that morning. He hesitated a second, sensibility telling him to shower and brush his teeth before joining her, but he threw caution to the wind and lunged at her, his lips locking with hers in a husbandly embrace.

**I will try to update tomorrow – but life is crashing down on me at the moment. I have two court dates tomorrow but I might be able to write something up on my phone. There is a lot of wasted time in court. I promise to try…**


	48. Lesbians Of London

**I am, at the very moment, looking at half of the places that I am writing about. They broke for lunch so I am sitting all lonesome at a cafe near Westminster. I ****_am _****trying to pick up the daily updates again.**

Tony grunted and rolled over, his body moving to where his wife should have been. Finding the bed empty, one eye opened and swivelled round to take in the room.

Ziva was standing in the window, staring out across the road. The view was not nearly as breathtaking as from their window in Paris – she was staring at a brick wall across the street, peering at windows with their curtains drawn, instead of gazing out at the illuminated Eiffel Tower.

'We don't have to get to work,' Tony said.

She turned round and smiled. 'No, we don't,' she agreed.

Tony patted the sheet beside him. She paused, rooted by the window, before running over to him and leaping on the bed and snuggling up to his warm body.

'We could stay in London the whole day,' he whispered, taking her hand in his and lifting to it to his mouth.

'That would a waste of our holiday,' she pointed out.

'Not if we were putting the time to good use,' he replied coyly, lifting her hand up to his bare chest.

Since Ziva had moved in, he had taken to wearing only boxers to bed which left the rest of his body – muscular thighs and rock-hard chest layered with a thin film of fuzz – for Ziva to admire to her heart's content.

'Mmm?' she murmured thoughtfully.

He wriggled down to put his head in line with the waistband of her pyjama shorts. One finger slipped under the elastic and pulled it away from her skin.

'Yeah?' he asked, awaiting agreement before his tongue followed his hand. If she had wanted to go out and see the sights...

'Yeah,' Ziva said.

He dipped his head and tugged her shorts down to the crook of her knees. His index finger slid into her, stroking her inside gently. Her mouth opened, the tingles shooting up through her nerves exciting her in the way that only he, her husband, could do.

'You want to order room service?' Ziva asked, almost an hour later, watching Tony dress at the foot of the bed.

'It's late,' Tony replied, nodding towards the clock on the wall. 'Let's go out and have lunch.'

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and walked into the bathroom, swaying her hips from side to side.

When she emerged, her hair was damp and straggly and she was dressed only in a towel. Tony crossed over to her, fully dressed and ready, and tugged at the towel, holding it limply in his hand.

'I need to get dry, Tony,' she scolded. 'Or have you gone off the thought of food?'

He met her gaze. 'I was going to dry you myself,' he told her innocently. He was as good as his word, rubbing her down thoroughly, paying special attention to her breasts and in between her legs.

At last, he was satisfied that she was bone-dry and he dropped the towel on the floor, indicating to the cleaner that he wanted it washed. If he had been on his own, he wouldn't have bothered but, when travelling with a lady – despite her gargantuan body count, she still classified as a lady in his books – it was only courteous to wash towels and unclog the pubic hair from the shower drain.

Come to think of it, he should have done that years ago, when he was still single and available – looking even – for sex. Cleaners probably liked cleanliness in an occupant and would be more open to climbing into bed with him. But, now, even if they wanted to, he did not want to have sex with anyone other than his new wife.

The woman in question stretched up on her toes to kiss him without him having to bend over to level with her lips. 'Ready?' she murmured.

Tony stepped back and looked her up and down. She was standing in front of him completely naked. 'You aren't ready,' he told her firmly. 'Only _I _get to see you like that, you hear?'

She smiled. 'I don't take long to get dressed, though,' she pointed out. 'Whereas you take an age staring in the mirror before we go out.'

'I do not,' he protested.

She grinned and turned around and bent down, thrusting her behind out, giving him the best view possible. 'Yes, you do,' she insisted.

He didn't reply; he was rather more interested in her tight butt cheeks pointed in his direction, the skin taut over the muscle.

'Stop looking,' she said without looking around.

'I can look all I want,' he replied. 'I'm your husband now.'

She grunted noncommittally and straightened up, holding a bundle of clothes. She eyed him before disappearing into the bathroom to get dressed. He called out in protest but the door closed. He grinned ruefully and turned to the mirror, determined to be satisfied with his reflection before she emerged, ready to go and face London.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at a wooden table, eating bread and dropping crumbs for the pigeons.

'So, what's first?' Tony asked through a mouthful of bread.

Ziva rolled her eyes at his bad manners and tilted her body so that she wasn't staring right at her. 'I don't know,' she replied.

'London Eye, Madame Tussauds, Tower of London, Tate Modern…' he mused. 'What do you think?'

'Start off with the Eye,' Ziva decided. 'We can choose out of the other ones later.'

'You've been to London before, right?' Tony asked as they walked towards the Underground.

She nodded. 'Just before I came to D.C. I was in the UK for six months.'

'So have you done any of these things before?'

Ziva eyed him, unsure whether he was serious or not. 'It was a _mission_, Tony. No time for tourism.'

Tony nodded and they continued walking alongside the Thames.

'It's dirty,' he said, wrinkling his nose.

'What were you expecting – a clear blue pool?'

Tony didn't reply.

'There it is,' he said, at length, pointing to the large circle sticking up into the grey clouds. He wrinkled his nose and looked up at the sky. 'It isn't the best day for it.'

She chuckled drily. 'It'll never be a good day for it here,' she told him. 'This is England, not Barcelona.'

They queued for forty minutes, by which time Tony was getting restless and Ziva was getting irritated with persuading him to stay in the queue. As she said, the wax-works would have a longer queue and he admitted himself that he wasn't in the mood for trailing round museums.

Finally, they climbed into the glass pod with ten other people: four fat, American tourists clutching their pelvises, paranoid that their fanny packs would be stolen; a worn out couple with two virulent young children pressing their noses against the glass and pushing on it, trying to break it and fall out, presumably; and two women, who Tony realised were a lesbian couple when they started kissing at the top.

It was beautiful, to quote Ziva, but Tony spent more time watching the other people enclosed in the glass cage with them. He was glad that, despite sharing a nationality with them, they were more refined than the tourists. He felt for the parents but decided that he would never take any of his children up in the air with him. It would completely ruin the romanticism of the experience. He was impartial to the lesbian couple but it got him thinking: had Ziva ever had sex with another woman? He decided to ask her later. Maybe when he had gotten her well and truly drunk.

**There is lots of empty time in court so I managed to do one today. I think that it'll continue on into tomorrow so I should be able to update again tomorrow.**

**And, for anyone who is reading my other current story, The Assassin's Dentures, I will try to update that as well.**


	49. New York, New York

**Again, sorry for not updating. After this chapter, though, I wrote the chapters ages ago so all I need to do is adapt them to what has happened since. Therefore, we should be able to get back to daily updates.**

**I have never been to New York so this is all based on films and TV programmes. I'm back to guessing what places are like and winging it.**

Ziva leaned in and pressed her cheek to the window of the taxi, staring up at all the tall buildings. She felt like a child in a toy shop or a lecturer in a museum.

'What was your reason for including New York in our tour of the world?' she asked, her eyes now focused on the impending Empire State Building.

'You'll see,' he replied, smiling at her excitement.

She frowned and sat up, leaving a patch of condensation on the glass. 'What do you mean?'

He smiled secretively. 'You'll see,' he repeated.

He leaned forward and tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder. 'Just here.'

Ziva opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Looking upwards, she saw a gold gilt hotel name plate and then a building stretching up for at least eleven floors.

'This is where we're staying?' she asked incredulously.

Tony thrust his wallet into his back pocket and grinned at her.

She shook her head. 'Tony, you can't afford this. Not after all those plane tickets and that hotel in Paris and all those meals at the fancy restaurants and those West End theatre tickets...'

Tony put a hand over her mouth. 'Just wait and see,' he told her.

She smiled and puckered her lips, kissing his palm. 'Ok,' she murmured.

She followed Tony to the desk and towards the elevator. By the seventh floor, she was frowning suspiciously. By the ninth floor, she was demanding to know how he was able to afford such an expensive room. By the eleventh floor, she was almost pinning him to the wall and pressing her arm to his throat.

There were four doors on the top floor. Tony went straight to the second door away from the elevator and ran the card through the electronic lock. He went in and stepped back to allow Ziva past him.

The room was huge. She was standing in a cream living room, complete with a cocktail bar in the corner. There were three doors off the room; one leading onto a balcony, the other ajar with a shower visible through the crack, and the other was closed. She crossed over and opened this door, finding herself in a bedroom, so far removed from the hard beds of her Mossad days that it was an alien world.

She turned back to Tony, her mouth open. 'Tony –' she began.

He held up a finger. 'We aren't done yet,' he said.

He turned and left through the open door. Ziva narrowed her eyes and followed him onto the landing. He knocked on the door to the room adjacent to theirs.

'Tony –' she said again.

The door opened and Tony Snr beamed at his daughter-in-law. Ziva smiled back, chuckling in disbelief.

'Ziva,' Tony's father cried. 'Having a good honeymoon? I trust that Junior is treating you to the best honeymoon ever.' He winked. 'You only get one honeymoon after all.'

Ziva outstretched her arms and placed them platonically on her father-in-law's shoulders. Tony stood awkwardly behind. Ziva pulled away and turned to her husband.

'He has,' she said, blinking slowly at Tony, who smiled and kissed her chastely on the cheek. 'It's been perfect.'

Tony Snr stepped back and waved them into his palatial suite. Ziva ran her wide eyes over the luxurious room cavern like a child at Disney Land.

'You like it?' Tony Snr asked.

Ziva nodded dumbly.

'Good.'

Tony and Ziva turned to see who was speaking in the soft, lyrical voice. A dark haired woman was leaning against a doorframe in a red dressing gown. She was about twenty-five years old, at least fifty years younger than Tony Snr.

Tony Snr crossed over to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 'Ziva, Junior, meet my fiancée, Maya.'

They nodded and smiled and made polite greetings. She murmured her platitudes back.

Tony moved over to Ziva and tapped her shoulder. 'Uh, Dad, we should get going.'

Tony Snr nodded and crossed back over to shake his son's hand and kiss his daughter-in-law's cheek.

Once out of the door, Tony leant against the wall and shook his head. 'I forgot how tiring he was,' he muttered.

Ziva chuckled and stepped into him, spreading her legs to either side of his. 'It's only for a couple of days, Tony,' she reminded him.

He nodded and smiled. 'If we spend all our time when we're at the hotel having sex, we will never have to see him,' he said.

* * *

><p>By the time that sat down to eat, they were thoroughly worn out. Vigorous sex for half an hour, a ten minute rest, another half an hour of sex, and then out to Broadway.<p>

Tony licked his lips at the sight of the large plate laden with grease and leaned over his food, his shirt grazing the top of the oily hump. 'Ziva,' he began, a questioning intonation in his voice.

She grunted in response, sticking her fork into the smaller pile of less greasy food.

'When you have sex with me, who do you compare me to?'

Ziva choked on her mouthful and stared at him. Swallowing, she asked, 'What do you mean?'

He sat back and played with his food. 'What I'm asking is: have you ever had sex with a woman?'

Ziva raised her eyebrows in surprise and opened her mouth but didn't speak. Tony sighed and waited until he had finished his mouthful before asking again. This time, Ziva dropped her knife and fork and leant forward to answer frankly.

'Yes.'

It was Tony's turn to choke. 'You have?' he asked in a high pitched voice.

Ziva snorted. 'Yes. Ages ago.' She narrowed her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. 'Do you know how boring it is to be stuck in a stiflingly hot and dusty hotel room for days with nothing to do?'

Tony held out his hands as if to defend himself from an attack. 'I'm not judging you – I was just asking.'

Ziva lifted herself off the seat of her chair and kissed Tony. 'I don't compare you to anyone, though. Nobody could even come close; man or woman.'

**We're almost at 50 chapters. And we passed 100,000 views. Which is quite an achievement, I think.**

**Tomorrow, I will definitely update. And the day after, and the day after. And things will start to move faster. And I won't write such shit. My mind's been preoccupied by all this court crap etc but I will start to write better and update every day again. I promise.**


	50. Sexting

**I hope that this makes up for the crap I've been trying to fob you off with for the last few weeks. They're back from honeymoon so finally I can write proper shit. And I'm updating daily. Don't make a promise you can't keep.**

Tony glanced up from his desk. The office was empty and the window outside showed darkness had descended on the city. The flickering light from the crackling bulb above his desk illuminated only a small circle around his desk and the spotlight became dim a few inches off his sheet of paper. In a while, he would be squinting to see what he was scrawling.

He had fallen behind on paperwork. He told himself that it was because he was the Senior Field Agent of a Major Case Team so he had a lot of paperwork but, truthfully, it was because things kept coming up which distracted his attention. Not frivolous things unrelated to his job; no, he was a hard worker but work was hard. He hadn't had an early night for at least a fortnight.

Four texts from Ziva lay unopened on his phone. He knew what they would say; he got them every night. Asking when he would be home, telling him that dinner was ready, begging him to be home before she went to bed at least, complaining that she didn't see him enough, then telling him that she had gone to bed so he had missed his chance yet again.

Yet again. They hadn't had sex for almost a week. Tony had had drier spells than that, to many married men that time period would seem like a heavenly marriage but, to Tony, it felt barren. They had only been married less than two months and, already, their sex life was drooping. It was hardly noticeable now but, in a few years, it would be a desolate wasteland if it continued on the path that they were currently treading. And Tony hated the desert.

His phone pinged again. This time a pang of guilt drove him to open it, to send an apologetic reply to his lonesome wife. He flipped his phone open and groaned. A picture of Ziva in her most sexy lingerie filled the screen. One leg propped on the bed, her finger in her mouth, her eyes drawing him home. Oh, how he longed to be there. How he longed to kiss those lips, run his tongue along those arms, trail his finger along those tiny, pert breasts.

But he couldn't. He was stuck at work. Filling in mind-numbing boxes on pieces of paper. He had always pitied married men who were driven to 'staying late at work' to go to visit prostitutes because they had tired of their wives but, this, this was a hundred times worse. He was actually stuck at work and wasn't getting sex from anyone, even a prostitute. What a life.

He threw his phone at the wall in frustration. Maybe, maybe he could leave the paperwork until later. Get in early the next morning to finish it off to give to Vance in time. His mind made up before the thought had even formed, he dropped his pen and shuffled the paper into a messy pile and, grabbing his coat and pocketing his smashed phone, charged for the stairs. Even the elevator would be too slow for him now.

He just hoped that the roads were not too busy or he might cause an accident. Whatever, he needed to get back home to catch Ziva before she went to sleep. Since his phone was out of order, he would get no advance warning of her beginning to get undressed, brush her teeth etc. He had to speed home and have sex. One track mind: sex.

Dodging cars and bikes and pedestrians, he managed to reach their apartment in record time. He doubted that even Ziva could better that. He skidded to a halt and leapt out of the car. If anyone had been watching him, they would have thought that his apartment was on fire or his wife was about to give birth. Whereas, in fact, his wife was about to go to sleep.

He dispensed with fumbling around for his keys and just banged on the door with his fist. It opened slightly after only a few seconds. Ziva frowned when she saw her husband standing, sweating outside their door. She shut it and unhooked the chain before throwing it open in concern.

Tony stepped in and grabbed her face, cupping her chin and leaning in to kiss her. He kicked the door shut with his foot and, together, they stumbled backwards onto the sofa, a tangle of flailing limbs. Clothes were thrown out from the sofa, like children thrown from the centrifugal force of a roundabout.

Peeling off the layers, Tony found that Ziva had not changed out of the sexy lingerie. No longer did he have to long to kiss those lips, run his tongue along those arms, trail his finger along those tiny, pert breasts: he could actually do all these things.

They didn't move into their bedroom afterwards but lay there and fell asleep. Or, at least, Ziva did; Tony lay next to her and watched her sleep. She was so beautiful, he observed. It still caught him out. He had spent years forcing those thoughts out of his head –he had an irrational fear that she would be able to read his mind even when she had her back turned to him – that it took some adjusting to be able to admit it, both to himself and to her.

**I will update tomorrow. And things start moving faster from now on so don't miss it...**

**50 chapters. Half of 100. Quite an achievement. Not that I'm trying for 100, of course. **


	51. Weekend At Bernie's

The wide expanse of fields stretched out endlessly on both sides, unbroken by even a few trees. The scene inched past the car windows as the car rolled sluggishly forward every ten minutes. Tony's fingers were drumming on the dashboard and Ziva was snoozing loudly, lying back in her seat with her bare feet resting on the glove compartment.

A car beeped behind them and Tony sat up straight, galvanised into action. He expected to see a large margin between his car and the one in front due to the sharpness of the blast of the horn. His face fell when he saw a gap of less then a metre. He edged forward before braking again, seconds later. Ziva opened one eye lazily and turned her head to look at him.

'I have to pee,' she announced.

'You have to pee?' Tony repeated slowly.

'Yes,' Ziva agreed. She raised her eyebrows expectantly and waited for Tony to reply.

'We're in the middle of a traffic jam, can't it wait?' Tony blustered, a red flush creeping over his cheeks.

'No,' Ziva replied simply. 'I have to pee now.'

'What do you expect me to do about it?' Tony inquired.

'You are my husband, you are meant to help me out,' she told him impatiently.

Tony looked at her blankly.

'And quickly,' she added, squirming a little.

Tony sighed and twisted in his seat, looking for a way out of the traffic jam. He groaned, finding that they were blocked in on all sides. His focus turned to the fields on either side of them, searching for a tree for her to hide behind. 'There's a bush,' he suggested dubiously. She followed his gaze and nodded, already climbing out of the car.

He watched her run towards the bush, frowning at her odd display of behaviour. They had been partners for years now, driving long distances together without a break, and she had never had to pee before. They had never even talked about it before.

She disappeared behind it and he looked away, embarrassed even though she was hidden. They had been locked in a container for a whole day and she had held it in until they were freed. Yet, here she was squatting behind a bush beside a road.

She appeared again and ran back to the car, slipping back into her seat.

'Thanks,' she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

'What was that about?' he inquired.

'I had a lot to drink earlier,' she shrugged. He accepted this explanation but continued to shoot her nervous glances throughout the rest of the slow moving journey.

They reached the crime scene a couple of hours later. The conversation had slipped back into its usual, easy flow and the blush had long since disappeared from Tony's cheeks. Tony parked in the dusty space outside the remote newsagents and they climbed out, looking around them with disinterest.

On the other side of the car park was a single, lonesome house. Two up, two down, austere brick building. A head appeared in one of the windows, a round head with a shiny bald top. He watched them with tiny eyes, pin pricks in the expanse of polished white skin.

Tony nudged Ziva and nodded towards the house. Ziva murmured her agreement, and they moved towards the bottle-green, wooden front door.

Gibbs had not told them much about the case. Either he hadn't been told himself or he was being secretive and cagey. It was a bank holiday weekend and they had been the only ones free. In a rare fit of familial love, Gibbs was going to visit his father in Virginia, and McGee was going to his sister's wedding, taking Abby as a guest. That left the happy married couple to drive four hours into west Virginia.

Tony had been harbouring notions of taking Ziva to a quaint little cottage somewhere and never leaving the bedroom for the three days of the holiday. Gibbs had scuppered that plan.

Ziva took the large brass knocker in her fist and banged it against the wood. There was a scuffle of movement inside before the door was opened slightly, held close the frame by the gold chain. All that was visible through the gap was a watery, blue eye, capped by an albino eyebrow.

'NCIS,' Tony said, holding up his badge.

The man stared at the badge, looking Tony and his partner up and down. Reluctantly, he drew back and shut the door, unhooking the chain before opening it again. His body was portly and stout, swathed in a tight polo shirt, stretched over his beer belly, and stained chinos.

He looked at them, studying them closely. 'NCIS,' he repeated slowly.

Tony nodded and held up his badge again. Ziva copied her husband.

The man smiled toothily, revealing lurid pink gums, and took a phone from a side table just inside the door. Tony frowned in confusion.

'We're here on a case...' he began but the man wasn't listening. Instead, he read a number off a page torn from a notebook and tapped the numbers onto the phone. Then, he held it out to Tony.

Puzzled, Tony took it and lifted it to his ear. It rang for less than a minute before someone answered.

'McGee.'

Tony started in shock. 'McGee?' he asked incredulously.

'Tony,' McGee greeted as if he had been expecting the call. 'Hold on, I'll pass you onto Abby.' Tony heard a muffled shout and then a squeal of excitement, presumably from the scientist.

He turned to Ziva who was looking as bemused as he was, her brow furrowed in thought as she tried to piece together the illogical jigsaw.

'Tony,' Abby cried. 'You're there, then?'

'Abby, what is going on?' Tony asked.

Abby giggled. 'Surprise!'

'Abby –'

'This is your wedding present from us,' Abby told him in elated tones. 'A weekend at Bernie's.' Tony could almost hear her grinning. 'That's actually his name, you know: Bernard Weekes.'

'Abby,' Tony said, striving to remain calm. 'Could you pass me back to McGee, please?'

'Have fun, Tony,' Abby said, before the line was filled with the crackling of movement and McGee spoke again.

'What is going on?' Tony interrupted McGee's spiel of apology for Abby's overexcitement.

McGee paused. 'There is no case,' he admitted. 'Abby wanted it to be a surprise so she made one up. We've booked you a room in the guest house for two nights.'

'Who's 'we'?' Tony asked.

'Abby masterminded it,' McGee replied. 'Gibbs and I knew but it was all Abby's idea. Look,' he added apologetically. 'It really is my sister's wedding, though, so I have to go.'

'Yeah,' Tony said flatly. 'Bye.' And, as an afterthought, 'Thanks.'

He turned to Ziva. 'Happy wedding day from Abby.' Without explaining further, he leaned forward and kissed her, full on the lips.

'Your room is just this way, sir,' Bernard Weekes said, leading the way upstairs.

**Next chapter **_**really **_**is important. So don't miss it.**


	52. Go Home And Sleep With The Slut

**Here's where things start changing...**

'Wine?' Tony offered, holding out the bottle brought by the waiter. Ziva shook her head, tapping her glass of water with her index finger. 'Just a little bit,' he pressed. 'To make the night flow better?'

'No, thanks,' she declined politely. 'I'm fine.'

Tony shrugged and poured himself out a glass of wine, throwing it back instantly and smacking his lips. 'It's good,' he judged. 'Sure you don't want any?'

She rolled her eyes at his insistence. 'I'll stick to water,' she told him firmly.

'So I have to finish a whole bottle on my own?' he complained.

'Yes,' she replied, her voice hard.

He pouted comically and raised his glass into the air. 'We can't toast our marriage,' he sulked, leaning forward so that she could smell the alcohol on his breath from just one glass.

'Whatever, Tony,' she snapped, her patience worn through already. She stood up, her chair falling backwards and hitting the floor with a loud crack. The whole restaurant turned to stare at them.

'I don't want any wine but you can get drunk if you want and go out and have fun and find some willing girl to get even more drunk with and then you can come home and sleep with the slut,' she ranted, turning on her heel and weaving her way through the tables of nosy diners, the door banging behind her as she left the restaurant.

Tony stared after, frowning at her uncharacteristically irritable, bordering on furious, mood. He got up, fishing a wad of notes out of his pocket, and followed her out. Spotting her striding down the street, he broke into a run, gaining on her quickly as she tottered in her high heels.

'Ziva,' he called. 'Wait!'

She turned around and hesitated, giving him enough time to reach her.

'Ziva,' he gasped, catching his breath. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' she replied sharply. 'Nothing's wrong, Tony. I'm fine, perfectly fine.'

He noticed a slight shine in her eyes and took her hand, stroking her smooth palm. 'Did I do something?' he inquired softly. He already felt guilty, even though he had no clue what he had done wrong, and he wanted to make it up to her, whatever it took.

She sighed and pulled her hand away. 'We're already married, Tony.' The regret in her voice was evident.

'So?' Tony's heart was thumping with foreboding. It was clear that she was regretting their marriage. He longed to comfort her and assure her that it was right. To him, their marriage was the thing that he treasured most in the world.

'I don't know what to do,' she cried, her voice bordering on wailing. She took a step backwards, edging away from him.

'What is it, Ziva?' Tony asked desperately. He grabbed her hand again and held it tight, refusing to let her walk away from him. 'Why, Ziva?' he exclaimed. 'What did I do? Tell me and I'll fix it.'

She shook her head and tried to escape but Tony held her firm. 'Tony,' she begged. 'Let me go.'

'No, Ziva,' he insisted. 'Tell me.'

She shook her head silently, not trusting herself to speak.

'Ziva,' he urged desperately. 'I love you. Don't you love me anymore?'

'No, I love you more than anything,' she promised urgently, frantic to assure him that her love was not failing her.

'Then, what is it?' he asked softly.

He could not think of anything that would make her regret their marriage. She had joined him in floating on a fluffy, white cloud of perfection during their honeymoon and the constant state of ecstasy had not been shattered by their return to normal life. Whatever it was, it must be huge. He hated thinking that something was eating away at his wife's happiness.

Her bottom lip trembled slightly and she shivered in the cold night air. 'Tony,' she sniffed, a single tear trickling down her cheek. She closed her mouth again and took a step towards him, letting him pull her into a warm hug. 'I might be pregnant,' she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

'What?' he asked, not hearing her properly.

'I might be pregnant,' she repeated quietly, pulling her head off his chest and staring up at him.

'You might be?' he queried.

'I haven't taken a test yet,' she admitted. 'But I have missed my period, which is very unusual, and...'

'And?' he prompted. His heart was pounding, alternately in his mouth and his boots.

'And,' she continued hesitantly. 'The symptoms are all there.'

'How long do you think you're gone?' He paused. 'A few weeks before the wedding, we had unprotected sex. Was that when –'

'I had my period after that, remember,' she snapped, interrupting him mid-sentence. Tony recoiled, and Ziva sighed and reached out to him.

'So, when did you suspect something?' he asked gently.

'My period is three weeks late,' she explained. 'But I only started to wonder last week. Before then, I just thought that...' She sighed. 'I don't know,' she muttered. 'I guess I didn't want to think about it.'

He frowned. 'Why not?'

'It is a big thing,' she replied. 'I only just got back on my feet after Som...' Again she stopped mid-sentence.

He nodded and, although he didn't accept that this was the only reason, he did not press her. Now was not the time to go into the intricacies of Ziva's past and the insecurities it had left. Their marriage had melded the edges together but it was still festering, simmering beneath the surface. He had given her the stability she craved and – just perhaps – this pregnancy was viewed as something to tip her balance off again.

'Why haven't you taken the test yet?' he asked. 'Were you waiting to tell me?'

She stared at the floor. 'No,' she admitted ashamedly. 'I was scared.'

'Do you want to take it now?'

She nodded. 'With you,' she insisted.

'Let's go home,' he decided eagerly. 'I'll pop out and buy one on the way.'

**Shock Horror. Ziva's pregnant.**


	53. Pregnancy Test

**I loved the reaction to the last chapter – I don't think that we are quite at the name choosing stage yet, though.**

'What?' he asked again, an uncertain grin spreading across his face.

She frowned at the positive reaction she got from him and repeated the statement, making sure that he had heard her correctly.

'Yes,' he laughed. 'You're pregnant.' He gave a whoop of joy and lifted her off the ground, squeezing her tightly against his chest. 'You're pregnant! I'm going to be a father.'

Ziva struggled out of his grip, clicking her fingers in front of his face to regain his attention. He stared at her, amazed by her calm expression. She looked almost worried, scared even.

'You aren't pleased,' he stated flatly. 'Before you knew for sure, you were nervous, but now that we do know...'

She sighed and stepped away from him, just out of reach. 'I'm not unhappy about it,' she replied. 'But...' She tailed off, unsure how to phrase her doubts and anxieties.

He stepped towards her surely. 'What are you worried about?' he asked.

She bit her lip, twisting her fingers. 'I am not maternal,' she admitted eventually. 'How am I supposed to look after a baby?'

Tony smiled encouragingly. 'You don't have to, Ziva.'

She frowned, and he lifted his hand to chuck her chin.

'You won't be alone, at least,' he exemplified. 'We're in this together.'

She nodded but did not noticeably cheer up. Tony pursed his lips and hummed quietly under his breath. She looked up and watched him, narrowing her eyes.

'I love you, Ziva,' he said at last. 'And I will love this baby.' He paused and met her gaze assuredly. 'As will you.'

She swallowed and continued to watch him. He floundered, having exhausted his limited reserve of platitudes. They just stared at each other, standing in their bathroom, in their marital home, the blue line on the pregnancy test lying between them on the edge of the bath.

Eventually, he found his tongue. 'Why are you really scared, Ziva?'

She bit her lip and looked up at him through long eyelashes. 'I – I – I don't – I don't know.'

Tony's face crumpled and he pulled Ziva into his body. 'That's because there _is _no reason. You don't need to be.'

Ziva nodded into his chest. 'Ok,' she mumbled.

He raised his eyebrows. 'Yes?'

'Ok,' she repeated frankly.

Tony laughed and pulled away and ducked his head to kiss her. 'We're parents,' he said, widening his eyes in glee.

She giggled and kissed him back. 'Not quite yet, Tony,' she reminded him. Her hand went instinctively to her stomach. 'This thing has still got to make it.'

Tony frowned. 'What do you mean?'

She shrugged. 'Don't put all your eggs in one coop,' she misquoted.

Tony didn't correct her; he didn't even notice the mistake. 'Ziva, you can't think like that.'

'I'm just saying,' she said. 'This thing might not make it.'

Tony visibly flinched. 'Don't call him a thing,' he told her.

She ran her tongue across her lips. 'Sorry,' she muttered, lowering her eyes.

He sighed. 'We'll get through this,' he assured her. 'And this "thing" will too.'

A phone rang in their living room and, after a pause, Tony left his pregnant wife's side to answer it.

'Yes?'

Ziva came through the door and watched him through glassy eyes. He nodded in answer to an unknown question; a pointless gesture since whoever was on the other end could not see him.

His eyes flicked up, lingering on Ziva's flat stomach before moving up to her face. He smiled at her and the smile grew across his face, a broad grin which spread from both ears.

'Oh,' he said, pressing his lips to the handset in his casual excitement. 'By the way, I don't no whether we told you...but, Ziva's pregnant.'

Ziva smiled at her husband, now clutching the phone so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He nodded again – seemingly too elated to realise yet that he was just a voice to the person on the other end – and dropped the phone onto the sofa. It bounced once before coming to rest on the soft cushion. He moved towards her, grinning widely.

'It's official.'

'Yep,'

'In nine months, we'll be holding a little baby.'

She nodded and stepped into his body, wrapping her fragile arms round his waist.

Tony grinned. 'You'll be too big to do this in nine months,' he said.

She pressed her face into his body, seeking the warmth that it provided. He was evidently exceedingly pleased by the foetus inside of her. She, on the other hand, was still unsure. Of all the people in the world, she was one of the least maternal, in her view. She had no loving childhood to draw from, no carefree childhood experiences to recreate. Granted, neither did Tony but he at least had been brought up in a normal town, surrounded by normal adults. She had grown up surrounded by guns and death.

And, of course, that took her back to the fear that was the foundation of her reservations. They worked at NCIS, apprehending dangerous criminals; that was how Tony liked to phrase it, anyway. There was always another monster. Someone ready to pull the trigger with the butt pointed at any one of them. If it was her, the baby living inside her would die. If it was Tony, the baby would grow up fatherless and with a mother who was inept and incapable of loving it.

Gibbs would take her off field work and chain her to her desk, just like he had all those other times when there was something wrong with her. But, when he did, and when she got interminably bored, she could not complain or beg to be allowed back into the world of wild-eyed murderers. She would have to stay there, like an obedient puppy with its leash knotted around the table leg.

The next nine months would be torturous. And, she added, so would the next nine months after that. But, looking across at Tony's ecstatic grin, she decided that it was all worth it. They were going to bring a life into the world and it was going to be theirs. They were going to be parents.

**Any requests for anything to happen? I'm not quite sure where to go from here.**


	54. Ingrained Killer Instinct

Clutching Tony's hand like a little child, Ziva followed him out through the elevator doors. He was striding ahead, impatient to share his excitement with their friends, while she was lagging behind.

It wasn't that she wasn't excited – on the contrary, she could feel a faint flutter every time that she thought about the growth in her stomach – but she was hesitant to make the news public.

Of course, she wanted to smile indulgently at Abby's ecstatic screams and be clapped on the back and congratulated by McGee, but the anxiety that she would kill the baby remained. She was Ziva and that was what she was best at – killing people. She doubted that her ingrained murdering instinct would draw the line at innocent foetuses.

Perhaps sensing her reluctance, Tony looked over his shoulder and smiled reassuringly at his nerve-ridden wife. Ziva returned the smile, albeit much weaker than the broad grin of Tony's.

Together, they walked into the bullpen and stopped in the void between the four desks. Peering over McGee's desk, Ziva could see the chubby man's backside erect in the air, his head buried in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. Their elusive boss was absent, yet again.

Tony coughed pointedly, and McGee jerked upright, just avoiding bashing his head on the metal frame. He spun his chair round and broke into a radiant beam. Still grinning foolishly, he hopped up and jogged round the cluttered table to place his hand on Ziva's stomach.

Startled, Ziva drew away, slapping the intrusive hand sharply. McGee recoiled like a speared snake.

'Sorry,' McGee mumbled, his eyes wavering between the two, not meeting either inquisitive gaze.

Ziva offered a quick smile, the grin not reaching her eyes and dying on her pink lips before the corners could twitch upwards. 'S'alright,' she muttered back. She was going to have to get used to that, she told herself firmly. People thought of baby bumps as public property, something they had a right to fondle. The test of her reserve started now. If she could endure the invasive touching, she would be able to tolerate a screaming, inconsiderate baby. And permit strangers to coo and prod it.

Tony clapped Ziva jovially on the back, and held his other hand out for McGee to shake.

'Congratulations,' McGee wished them both, smiling genuinely, his eyes shining in the sun streaming through the skylight.

'Thanks,' Tony replied.

In a jocular threesome, they made their way down to Abby's lab, where McGee estimated that they would find Gibbs as well.

He was correct, as they found out when they walked through the automatic doors. Abby spun round, almost keeling over on her platforms, and Gibbs caught her, the reflexes honed in the Marines not slowed by age quite yet.

A high-pitched squeal peeled around the lab, echoing off the abundant metal equipment. 'I can't believe that you're pregnant! You're going to be such great parents! It's so exciting!' She paused for breath, still tottering towards the parents-to-be.

Tony reached out his arms to catch her as she stumbled forward once more, grinning over her head at Ziva.

'Can I organise the baby shower? Can I? Can I? Please?' she begged, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a garbled jumble.

Tony chuckled. 'I'm sure you can, Abby. Just calm down, please?'

Abby drew another deep breath and, ignoring his pleas, set out on another rant at a pitch only suitable for dogs.

Stepping up behind her, McGee helped her upright, supporting her with his own body. He could feel Ziva's eyes boring into his. Despite her own distractions, she never missed anything. She had noticed that McGee was taking any excuse to get closer to Abby. Maybe it was just a ploy to get her mind off her own thoughts, though, and she was turning small gestures into meaningful serenades.

'Call it Tim,' he blurted out, his cheeks flushing under the former-assassin-and-future-mother's scrutiny.

'What?' Tony asked, frowning at McGee's incoherence.

'Timmy,' Abby reprimanded. 'This is no time for joking.'

McGee looked down at her, a hurt expression residing on his fleshy features. 'I'm not joking,' he replied, insulted by the accusation.

Tony looked up at the taciturn Gibbs, standing apart from the burbling gaggle, watching the proceedings with a Godly interest. Noticing Tony's eyes were on him, he looked up and nodded curtly. 'Congratulations.'

Tony smiled faintly. 'You mean that, Boss?'

Gibbs nodded, still silent.

The party moved upstairs and, after a time, the immediate excitement waned and Abby drifted back down to her lab, the others settling behind their desks.

Tony moved over to Ziva's desk at lunchtime, dipping his chopsticks into her box of Chinese food intermittently. McGee had gone down to dine with Abby. Gibbs was still working.

Tony tossed his empty box into Ziva's bin and returned to his own desk, glancing at the time in the bottom corner of his computer screen. It was almost 2 o'clock. McGee was still down in the basement and Gibbs had disappeared up to Vance's office.

He sat down and surveyed the view, staring across the bullpen at his wife. He was probably imagining it, but knowing that she was pregnant made him see her in a different light. She was practically glowing, ravishing in the dappling light.

Then Gibbs blocked his view, bending over Ziva's desk, dropping a sheet of paper in front of her with a firm hand. Judging by the dimmed annoyance on her part, he guessed that it was the paperwork chaining her to her desk.

He was glad that the resistance was muted. If she put up a real fight, he would question her enthusiasm about the developing baby. As it was, she was voicing her irritations and accepting the wise words of the omniscient Gibbs.

**I used a lot of the ideas that were in the reviews – your ideas – but I have no time to reference them all. Thanks for them, though, because I have no experience in pregnancies. I tend to avoid pregnant women.**

**Some people suggested that I end this story and continue it on in another story. Does that sound like an idea? That would chain me to continuing with it for a number of chapters more, at least.**


	55. Two Paramedics And A Baby

**We're skipping ahead here so bear with it. And pay close attention so that you don't miss anything...**

Ziva's eyes snapped open. Alarm bells were shrieking through her head. Hesitantly, she stuck an arm out from under the sticky sheets and felt around for it. She found the top and pressed down, muting the shrill ringing.

Sitting up and pulling the sweaty sheets off her equally moist body, she twisted around to stare blankly at the cot in the far corner of the bedroom. From the distance, it seemed empty.

After a sluggish pause, she climbed from the bed, stepping towards the cot and peering into it from above, like an omnipotent God gazing down at the ant-size people moving around their daily business, unawares of the constant scrutiny.

A baby lay there, tiny and fragile, engulfed by the enormity of the cot. Its face was chalky-white and its features were elfin. It lay completely still.

Ziva had a vague recollection of standing over the cot on a previous occasion, perhaps every occasion, she couldn't quite remember (she was still fairly lethargic), and gazing down at a squirming child which was contorting its face in what looked like the beginnings of an epic sneeze.

But this time, the little body was static, the face relaxed in peaceful slumber. Or not.

Swallowing and ordering herself to remain calm – it was almost certainly of no consequence – Ziva bent over to place a gentle palm on the baby's chest. Like the wan body, the delicate ribs beneath the velour bodysuit were motionless.

Then Ziva could do nothing but panic to a certain degree. Sliding her hands beneath the child's body, she lifted it from the cot and turned round to place it on the marital bed in which the baby was conceived. She bent to press her ear against the helpless babe's chest. There was no discernable heartbeat.

Straightening up slowly, Ziva attempted to recall the first aid training that she had been taught while pregnant. Dribbles of it came back but she could not remember anything significant, nothing which would be able to save her baby. If it could be even saved, that was.

Turning around, Ziva snatched up the phone and dialled 999. Minutes later, she was sitting on the bed, cradling the immobile child in her arms. Its skin was chilled as if Ziva had left it in the fridge overnight to keep it fresh. She hadn't, of course, or, at least, she was fairly sure that she hadn't.

Frowning, she looked down at the child in her arms. She had only had it for...

A hurried knock on the door stirred her from her incoherent thoughts. She twisted round to place the baby on the spongy mattress – supporting its head on the way down, naturally – before moving quickly towards the door.

Her hand wrapped around the door handle and she had almost completely turned it before stopping. She stretched up on her toes and, squeezing one eye shut, peered through the peep-hole, checking for dangerous persons wanting to enter her family home.

Two men dressed in green scrubs, very reminiscent of TV hospital sitcoms, were standing outside her door, tapping their white shoed feet impatiently. It seemed safe enough, she reasoned.

She stepped back and reached up, pulling back the top chain before moving down to the bolt below. Finally, she reached the foot of the door, pulling back the final bolt, and she stood up straight once more, brushing the dust from her knees before twisting the door handle.

She pulled the door open, smiling politely at the paramedics and holding out her free hand to invite them into her home. She directed them towards the bedroom, hesitating outside the bedroom. Tony would not be pleased if she let strange men into their bedroom.

She smiled shyly and ushered them into the kitchen, filling the kettle and switching it on before going solo into the bedroom to fetch the baby. She laid it on the table in front of the paramedics and watched them poke it with a measured amount of interest to see if it moved, like prodding a sleeping cat with the toe of a shoe.

When it didn't move, they grumbled under their breath, muttering various theories to each other. Ziva turned away to make the tea, dropping the teabag into the teapot from a distance to save herself from being splashed by the scalding water.

That accomplished, she turned around and leant on the kitchen surface, watching with a motherly smile as the paramedics rolling the baby onto its front to examine it from a different angle.

Eventually, after all three of them – a possibly dead baby would be unable to drink tea obviously – had drained their mugs, the paramedics decided to take the baby to the hospital for further checking. They wanted to be extra certain of whether it was dead or not.

After some consideration, she agreed to accompany them. They were very keen for her to come along, presumably for her to sign piles of forms with a flourish and a fountain pen engraved with the name of a prestigious brand.

Riding in the front seat of them ambulance, the baby bouncing on her knees, Ziva had a placid smile on her face. In the waiting room, the smile remained but the baby was gone, taken into some room by the paramedics. A phone was thrust in her face, a nurse ordering her to call her husband.

Staring down at the phone, Ziva tried to remember the number of her husband. Two numbers sprang to mind and she pushed them in before stopping and looking vacantly at the screen with two stark, black numbers staring back at her, trapped behind the glass. She realised that she wasn't sure whose number she was trying to recall. Her husband's, yes, but who was her husband? Names revolved in front of her eyes but none stood out as instantly recognisable.

'Ziva.'

She looked up, expecting to see the nurse smiling down at her, holding some other object out for Ziva to take. But no one was standing before her.

'Ziva.'

Come to think of it, the voice was not earthly. It seemed to come from the walls, a booming transmitted straight from the core of the earth. She recognised it, though.

'Ziva.'

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. The hospital waiting room disintegrated before her, evolving into her bedroom. She caught one fleeting glimpse of the door that her baby had disappeared into before she was staring at a blank white ceiling.

A face moved into her line of sight. Her mouth opened and her face contorted, trying to form a word, the name that was connected to the handsome face before her.

'Tony,' she blurted, the name suddenly flooding back to her.

He smiled in a very husbandly way. 'Are you ok?'

She struggled upright, looking around the room. Just a few seconds ago, it seemed, she had been sitting in bed looking at the same sight but with one difference... A cot.

She sighed and smiled weakly at her husband, Tony. 'I was dreaming,' she said flatly.

He looked at her and nodded. 'You _have _been sleeping,' he agreed. He shifted around to settle himself. 'What about?' he asked lazily.

She shook her head. 'Nothing,' she replied.

He nodded and hopped off the bed in an athletic arc, causing her to bounce heavily on the spongy mattress, her weight greatly increased by the large camel hump rounding her usually flat stomach.

'I'm making breakfast. Are pancakes ok?' He paused and grinned broadly. 'Mummy,' he added pointedly.

She smiled lamely. 'Pancakes sound great,' she assured him.

**I hope that you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wasn't planning on doing a chapter today but then I had an idea so I started writing. Obviously I won't be doing this again but I would like to know: **_**did**_** you like it?**

**And, also, I realised that I haven't actually read a fanfiction for ages. All the ones that I was reading when I began this have finished now. I think that if I read one, I will be able to regain my initial interest in writing them because, especially now that no new episodes of NCIS are being aired, I am losing my interest in the show and I want to continue to write this and my other story.**

**I don't have enough time to trawl through all the ones that are on the go at the moment but I would like to hear any recommendations that you have. Just any ones that you are enjoying reading at the moment, and they don't have to be Tiva centred, although I don't really enjoy reading Jibbs or McAbby.**


	56. Dreaming Of A White Christmas

**Just to clarify – the death of a baby last chapter was a dream. Ziva didn't really care more about giving the paramedics a cup of tea than saving her baby's life. I wouldn't mess up the characters that much.**

**We're skipping ahead here. I gave up on writing Ziva' pregnancy so this is my way of getting round that.**

Tony wandered listlessly through the aisles, outstretching a finger to poke random books. Two years ago, he hated Christmas Eves, now he hated the weekend before Christmas. Shopping for presents was the dreadful part of Christmas; seeing the look on his friends' faces when he presented them with their gift was the part that made him happy.

He was completely at a loss for what to buy people, Ziva's present was proving especially difficult. What did you get for your pregnant wife when her baby shower was in eleven days?

When they were just colleagues who were dancing around their attraction, he had only ever had to spend ten minutes shopping for her. Now, the present had to be heartfelt, not merely something to make her smile at his humour.

He also had to buy something for Abby and McGee, the couple that weren't a couple. Ordering black roses for Abby had become tired, and he wanted to surprise her and make her clap her hands in glee.

He usually bought McGee something computery and not at all personal, but, over the past two years, they had become closer and admitting to their friendship was acceptable. He wanted to get them each something special, which, naturally, made them smile genuinely.

He gave up on books – who got excited when they got a book for Christmas? – and strolled out of WHSmiths onto the high street. Looking from side to side, he could not see any other shop that might provide a wealth of possibilities. Therefore, he turned back towards the car park.

On a side street by the car park pedestrian entrance, colourful bouquets of flowers spilled out onto the pavement. He turned down the street and stopped outside the shop. There were no black flowers, but he wasn't looking for anything as dour and sombre.

Spotting what he wanted through the grimy window, he made his way through the tip of petals to the door. The proprietor barely glanced up as the bells above the door chimed to announce his entrance.

The shop did not look as if it was well-thumbed. He estimated that it maybe got two customers every day. The hunched man behind the desk did not seem to mind, however. Tony moved towards the counter and paid for the present, pulling a single note out of his wallet.

Then, he left and, instead of heading for the car park, he turned back towards the high street. Twenty minutes later, he was again passing the side street, a small bag clutched in his sweaty palm as he finally went into the car park.

It had definitely been a successful shopping expedition.

Ziva was out when he got home – presumably with Abby – so he took advantage of his short-lived loneliness. The computer whirred into life and, after navigating his way slowly around Google, he entered his debit card details and could sit back in the chair with a satisfied smile on his face.

Apart from Gibbs, he had bought everyone's gifts. Gibbs was always the easiest anyway – all he ever wanted was a cup of proper coffee.

Christmas Day came quickly. Tony barely noticed the passing of time.

Sitting around the Christmas tree in Tony and Ziva's living room, it looked like a Christmas scene from a children's picture book. On the windowsill was a thin layer of snow with birds' footprints punched into the crisp white covering. From the walls hung tinsel and paper chains, and handmade paper snowflakes were stuck onto the wallpaper with blu-tack.

The Christmas tree was the most spectacular, however. Instead of his customary 2ft high plastic one – which had been banished to the kitchen by Ziva – Tony had trekked through the icy roads of Washington to a wood yard. Every year previously, Ziva had complained that seasonal tree farms only sold sub-standard trees. She wanted a proper fir tree from a proper wood yard.

It had taken some research, but Tony had located one. He had rented a truck and driven out to the yard and then driven back with a huge tree strapped to the back. He was glad that he had chosen the house with high ceilings.

Ziva had been overjoyed when she had returned from shopping with Abby to find a monstrous fir in her living room. They had spent the evening hanging baubles onto the spindly branches and snatching quick kisses when they just so happened to bend over to take another out the box at the same time.

When McGee and Abby had arrived, they had commented on the festive atmosphere, and Tony wholeheartedly agreed. Never before had they spent a Christmas together so this one needed to be perfect, in Tony's mind. And, so far, it was.

For Tony and his wife, this would be their last – and, incidentally, first – Christmas as a family of two. Next Christmas they would be joined by a tiny baby, looking forward to its first birthday.

Tony felt a squirm of pleasure in his stomach every time he thought about impending fatherhood. He loved touching Ziva's belly, feeling the human inside move around. Ziva complained that she looked like a pot bellied pig, but Tony couldn't imagine her looking more beautiful.

Granted, sex had been postponed indefinitely (it would be too difficult to manoeuvre around that large orb attached to Ziva's stomach and, anyway, Ziva's sex drive had fallen drastically) but Tony hardly noticed. He missed sex, obviously, but the prospect of a child was too great for him to dwell on his barren sex life. The gain overshadowed the minimal loss easily.

The due date was only two weeks away. It was too far away for Tony. After nine months of waiting, it couldn't come fast enough.

He wanted his eyes to well up as the midwife presented them with a tiny baby. He wanted to hold his baby in his arms and cradle it. He wanted to kiss his wife and turn together to look across at their sleeping baby. He wanted to argue with an exhausted Ziva about what to name their child. He wanted to sleep on a hard plastic hospital chair and wake up to the sound of strangled screams. He wanted to be a father.

**There is still two weeks to go so if you have any ideas for anything you would like to happen - or what present Tony gives to Ziva since I am stuck on that one – please tell me. Otherwise it might be another long wait for another update because I am rapidly running out of ideas.**


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